In the Woods When First We Met
by AnneWithAnEStory
Summary: Gilbert is there for Anne when she needs someone the most. Billy did far more damage than seen in the episode. Anne goes through my own journey of healing. (A few chapters are labeled trigger warning and are rated M; If you skip those chapters, you will still know what happened, but you won't be reading the details. And the story will still make sense even if you don't read those).
1. Prologue

As I begin, I'd like to explain why I wrote this story. Especially since it is a tough subject.

When I saw the episode of "Anne With an E" in which Billy waits in the woods for Anne, I flashed back to an incident that happened to me...something bad happened to me in the woods near my school and when you read this story you'll know what.

The episode really hit me because it was the same exact situation- me seeing a girl doing something, mentioning it to someone, it being spread around, and her brother deciding to deal with it. In the woods outside of our school. The same situation as in the show.

So that episode of the tv show really hit me hard.

I got the exact same "vibe" from Billy in that scene that I got from my real life attacker…I don't believe Billy was just there to beat her up.

Gilbert was there to step in and help. No one was there to help me.

Anne is my heroine in every way, and even though this story is sad, it helps to imagine how Anne would have been in MY situation, how strong she was, how her imagination and her hope got her through it.

At first, I only wrote the story to be about the aftermath- how Anne heals herself- but NOT about the actual incident itself. I did not want to actually write the assault scene. The reason I finally DID write about the incident itself is that I had NEVER talked to ANYONE about what happened to me. EVER. When I wrote this scene, I was picturing myself and what happened to ME, not picturing Anne. But the thing is, once I wrote down what happened to me as if it had happened to this fictional character instead, I was able to read what happened from an outsider perspective, and see that there was really no justification for this being done to someone.

And it sounds weird I guess but thinking of my heroine in the same situation as me and figuring out how to write her out of it, getting my heroine through the bad things that happened to me, made me feel better about it- or at least not alone.

What I went through changed me in ways I never imagined, and I went a while just pushing what happened to me into the back of my mind and never facing it, never actually getting through it.

THEN, during an episode of Anne, everything just flooded back to me in an instant and I decided I needed to to use that moment to push myself to re-live everything in an attempt to gain some control and perspective.

It helped me, but..why put it up on a website, though? I decided to put the story up on a website because I want to say that if this happened to you, too, like me, all of the feelings portrayed in this story are normal feelings and, just like Anne, you will survive…and even thrive. : )


	2. Ambush

When it happened, Anne was walking through the woods on her way to school, wondering what kind of day it was going to be, and hoping for the best.

An older boy stepped out from behind a tree, startling her.

Who was he? Oh, yes, Billy…Billy something. She couldn't remember if she had known his last name.

Anne was thirteen and sat with the girls, Billy sat with the boys of course, and he was a couple years older than Anne, so she hadn't had much contact with him at all yet.

"Anne of Green Gables," He said smoothly. Something about his demeanor gave Anne a silent shiver that went all the way down her back.

"You and me? We're gonna _talk_." He almost laughed over the word "talk". Anne didn't understand that, but she would later.

"You said some pretty nasty things about my sister," He said, taking a step toward her.

Anne looked confused. "Who's your sister? I don't-"

"Prissy Andrews, dummy," He supplied.

Anne looked at him with big eyes, feeling a tiny bit frightened because she could actually feel the anger resonating from him.

She suddenly noticed for the first time how much bigger Billy was than herself. He was 5'8" and strong. She was feeling smaller by the second.

She could smooth it over, though, she'd just apologize for what she said about Prissy and the teacher.

"I'm sure I didn't mean to be nasty-" she began.

"Then why was she crying all night?" He demanded.

"I- I'm sorry-"

"My parents-" He took another step forward- "Say that's slander."

Now he was leaning slightly over her, causing her to have to take a step backward.

"Do you want to get slandered?" He asked, fire in his eyes.


	3. Slander (Warning- trigger)

Anne didn't know what he meant.

But she understood perfectly that this was a threat.

She now saw that an apology wasn't what Billy was after.

"I'm gonna teach you a lesson, Fido. You've been a bad dog. A bad, bad dog." He said, clearly enjoying belittling her.

Anne turned her head to the left, looking to see if anyone else was coming through the woods.

The woods were right in front of the school, and many of the students had to pass through them to reach the schoolhouse.

Maybe someone was nearby. Maybe someone could–

Billy grabbed her wrist, forcing her attention back to him, as he said, "Look at me when I'm talking to you, trash!"

Anne twisted her arm in an attempt to break free from him. The sharp pain that suddenly shot into her wrist let her know that something had gone wrong when she yanked her arm away from his grip.

Anne tried to take off running but she didn't even make a step away before Billy shoved her. Anne fell flat on the ground, breathless.

Billy was already on top of her.

She was staring up at him, his face was mere inches from hers.

"That's what you are: dirty trash. Did you know that? I'm going to teach you some manners."

Anne's eyes were full of tears. What could she do? Billy had her arms pinned down. She struggled against him but was no match for him.

He shoved his knee between her knees to prevent her from keeping her legs closed. He was wrestling with the buttons on his pants as he did this, though Anne couldn't see that.

"Billy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Anne said, unable to move and not having any other way out but hoping an apology would work.

"You're sorry? Sorry for what?" Billy demanded, stopping and staring at her hard. Anne struggled to breathe.

"I'm sorry for what I said about Prissy. I must have misunderstood, I must have seen wrong, I'm sure she wasn't doing what I said-"

"Do you think you can get off that easy? Sorry won't change the reputation you gave my sister."

Anne began to cry in earnest now. "I'll tell everyone I was wrong. I swear. I'll tell them I was lying. I'll make sure everyone knows what I said isn't true-"

Anne's dress was already turned upward from her falling on the ground, but now Billy grabbed at her petticoat.

He yanked it so roughly that the bottom of the petticoat tore and a long jagged strip of white cloth was hanging from it.

Anne had a brief, absurd moment where her first worry was that her petticoat was torn and she'd need to mend it and hope Marilla wouldn't be upset for her ruining it. That absurdly mis-timed thought came and left quickly.

Unable to kick, Anne turned her head to one side, hoping beyond hope that someone- anyone- would come.

Anne felt, rather than heard, the tearing of her clothes, this time. Her undergarments were yanked from her body and hung loose, torn.

Billy wasn't looking down there, though. That area was simply a vehicle for hurting her, a way to cause pain- he had no interest in looking there. Instead, he kept his eyes locked to her eyes. That was where he wanted to be looking, because in her eyes he could see fear- and the fear in her eyes was what interested him more than anything under her clothes.

"You're a dirty piece of trash and it's time someone treated you like it." Billy said, his eyes staring straight into hers, enjoying her fear.

And suddenly, every thought was scattered from her mind, and the only thing that existed was pain.


	4. Vengeance (Warning- trigger)

Pain, in a way she'd never experienced pain before.

Anne's strangled cry rang out loudly until Billy clamped his hand down hard over her mouth to quiet her, his elbow steady on the ground.

She stared up at his face, unable to move, unable to think, unable to look away. Her eyes glassed over. Even taking a breath in and letting it go was a challenging task

"You like this, bitch?" He said through clenched teeth. "This is what you did to my sister. Now you know how it feels. This is what you did to her."

Anne whimpered two tiny words, barely loud enough to be heard. "Billy, please…"

Billy was not going to let up.

"Now you're gonna remember that she's not dirty trash like _you_ are. You understand me?"

Anne stared at his face, hearing every word but unable to respond.

"You understand me?" He asked again, more forcefully this time.

She managed to nod her head slightly.

It felt like it had gone on forever. She could feel the hard packed dirt underneath her. A cold, dry leaf brushed her cheek and crackled in her ear.

Still on top of Anne, Billy finally reached down to pull his pants back up to cover himself.

Once he had his pants back on covering himself up, then he got up off of Anne. Now sitting up, he, without looking, roughly yanked Anne's dress back down to cover her.

He was kind of kneeling on the ground, resting on his knees. But then, looking at Anne still on the ground, he seemed to think better of this and quickly moved, so instead of his knees on the ground, his knees were on top of Anne's arm. In pinning her arm to the ground, she wouldn't be able to leave. He straightened his collar, brushed off his coat, smoothed his hair and put his cap back on.

The pressure of his knees into her slender arm made tears come into her eyes all over again. When she tried to move away from him, he dug his knee into her, causing her to cry out. He grinned at her pained expression.

She had thought he would leave her when he had finished with her.

But here he was, still holding her.

Anne feared she would vomit. _I'm covered up. I'm covered up. He wouldn't have covered me up if he was going to do this all over again. So he's done...he's done,_ she tried to reassure herself _...but what's he going to do now?_

Anne was in pain and terrified. Billy was off of her now but it didn't matter. He might do something even worse now, though she couldn't imagine what.

And even if he let her go, he was still there and she would have to see him every day, every day at school he would be there. Every day she would walk through these woods and face him.

She had been wishing desperately that someone would be able to help her, but now, she didn't know what to think.

Part of her wished no one would come by now because she didn't want them to see her and she didn't want anyone to know what had just happened to her.

But another part of her wished someone could help her because she was terrified Billy would do something else to her and she wouldn't be able to stop him.

She knew he carried a pocket knife. She had seen it during lunch time.

Would he do something to her with it?

She couldn't think of what he might do with a knife, but then she'd never imagined anyone doing something like _this_ to her either…

And then it happened. Someone was there.

It was another boy, about Billy's age, someone Anne hadn't seen before.

His name was Gilbert, Anne would soon learn.


	5. Rescue

And then it happened. Someone was there.

It was another boy, about Billy's age, someone Anne hadn't seen before.

His name was Gilbert, Anne would soon learn.

"Hey, Billy," Gilbert called from afar. He was walking to them now, his eyebrows drawn together, concerned.

Billy turned to look. He called out jovially, "Oh, hey! Long time, no see, bud. Glad you're back!" As he said this he stood up, getting off of Anne's arm.

Anne slowly, painfully, moved her arm that he had been resting his weight on.

"What's going on?" Gilbert asked, still approaching, walking faster, clearly aware that Billy had either tackled or punched a girl, since she was on the ground and he was just now standing up.

Billy stood up, breathing hard, "How you doin', bud?" He grabbed Gilbert's hand and shook it.

Gilbert shook his hand, but he was looking back and forth from Anne on the ground to Billy standing next to him.

Anne had a terrified look on her face. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the two boys as if she thought maybe this new boy, obviously a friend of Billy's, had come to join Billy in her attack.

Gilbert assumed Billy had the girl on the ground in a fight, beating her up. He knew Billy could be arrogant and a bit of a bully at times, but he was very surprised to see Billy trying to fight with a girl.

He saw that the girl's eyes were red as if she had cried, likely out of fear- but he also noticed that she didn't have any marks or bruises that he could see.

He sighed with relief, sure that he had gotten to her in time to stop Billy from beating her up.

"So what's been happening?" Billy continued, sounding as if nothing unusual was going on.

"Not much, bud. Just glad to be back." Gilbert said, searching Billy's face for some kind of answer that would explain why he was about to beat up a girl.

There was a short silence.

"Yeah, so what are you guys doing?" Gilbert questioned, with a hard look at Billy. The expression let Billy know Gilbert's disapproval.

"You playing a game?" Gilbert continued when Billy didn't answer immediately. "It looks fun, but we ought to get to school before we're tardy, eh?"

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, I was just about to get going." Billy gave Anne a meaningful look- a look of possession- and said softly- threateningly- "See you there."

Gilbert watched him go, then turned back to Anne, who was still sitting on the ground, not moving.


	6. Aftershock

Gilbert watched him go, then turned back to Anne, who was still sitting on the ground, not moving.

She wanted to scramble up and grab her books and get away from there- get away from these woods- get away from this new boy- get away from everyone.

But she couldn't move, she could barely think to function.

"You all right, Miss?" Gilbert asked, looking concerned.

Anne stared at him a brief moment, not registering what he was saying, the events of the moments before reeling in her mind. Her voice caught in her throat and she couldn't answer him.

She felt the ground behind her for her hat.

"Here, allow me," he said, reaching behind her to retrieve her hat.

He brushed the leaves off the thin straw hat, and handed it to her.

Then he began gathering up her school things for her and putting them back into her bookstrap.

Anne could have said thank you but didn't say a word. She was trying to figure out how to stand up without letting the ripped part of her petticoat hang out from underneath her dress.

She moved slowly, realizing now that even if she wanted to stand up quickly, she couldn't. She ached all over.

Her back and behind hurt from being shoved to the ground.

Her shoulders, elbows, and knees hurt from pushing and struggling so hard against Billy.

She hurt, too, in her most intimate area. That scared her more than anything.

And her wrist. Her wrist was definitely injured.

As she stood up, she felt as if suddenly the earth was spinning too fast around her and she was afraid she might pass out. She tried to balance.

Gilbert noticed, dropped her bookstrap on the ground, and quickly reached toward her. "Here, maybe- maybe you should sit down,"

"I'm ok- Really, I'm-"

"Just for a minute," he insisted. He guided her, wobbly, to an overturned log a few steps away. She sat down gingerly.

Finally she spoke, "I'm just…I'm fine. I'm fine." She tried to keep herself from vomiting. She closed her eyes painfully.

Just then she heard the school bell. "School," she remembered, opening her eyes with a start. "I'm late."

"Then I'm late, too," Gilbert said, acting as if it didn't matter. He stared at Anne.

"I have to go," Anne said, beginning to stand again, being careful to hold the ripped part of her petticoat up underneath her dress, her hand tight around the wad of fabric.

"You sure you're all right?" He looked doubtfully at her.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," She tried to sound more confident than she felt.

Gilbert stared at her a second, unconvinced. But, as it wasn't his choice to make, he just kind of shook his head to himself.

He reached for her bookstrap and picked it up from the ground.

Arm outstretched, he handed it to her.

Anne reached out to take it from him, but, by natural instinct she reached for the books with her dominant hand- the same hand that Billy had grabbed and twisted.

So, the second that Gilbert let go, the bookstrap plunged from Anne's hand, and with a sharp cry of "Oh," she was kneeling on the ground.


	7. Teardop

Tears sprang to Anne's eyes. It was all too much. She hurt all over, she wasn't safe, she was late for school which meant everyone would turn and stare at her when she walked in and the teacher would likely even yell at her, and now she was in the woods with this strange boy who didn't seem to want to hurt her, but she'd tried to convince him she was fine and now he had absolute proof that she wasn't.

Gilbert's concern over this stranger jumped a mile: he had thought she was unsteady because she had been frightened, but he now realized that she was unsteady because she had been injured. He didn't think Billy had actually had the chance to hurt her, he thought he'd been there in time. Clearly he hadn't.

Gilbert knelt down in front of her. Anne refused to look up at him, even though he was clearly trying to make eye contact with her. She just cradled her wrist against her chest.

"Hey," Gilbert said very softly, "Hey, let me see, ok?"

He put his hand gently out, palm upward. He did not touch her, he just waited with his hand held out to her.

"I'm fine," Anne whispered.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and landed in the center of Gilbert's palm.

Gilbert looked down at the tiny teardrop, shining like a pearl, in his hand. He closed his hand around it.

Then he settled himself down on the ground in front of the kneeling Anne.

"We didn't get properly acquainted, did we? I'm Gilbert Blythe." He said softly.

Anne still didn't say anything and didn't look up at him.

"Can I know your name?" he asked after a moment.

Anne shook her head quickly. She couldn't say anything, she couldn't speak, because if she did, she would cry, and she couldn't cry, not with this boy.

"You must be new in Avonlea, eh? I haven't been away that long, and you weren't here when I left."

Anne stared at the ground.

"I was in the District of Alberta, with my father. We're back home now." Gilbert tried.

She sniffled. Her nose was running and she didn't have a handkerchief with her.

Gilbert noticed and without mentioning it he pulled out his own handkerchief and set it in front of her, while saying, "Have you ever been there? There are mountains bigger than anything you've ever seen."

When that elicited no response from the girl, he was quiet a moment. Then-

"Where did your family move here from?"

She just breathed for a few seconds, but finally she spoke.

"I didn't have any family till after I came here. The Cuthberts, over at Green Gables- Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert- they've adopted me."

He nodded. "I see. Are you liking it here, then?"

She finally looked up, incredulous at this question. She just stared at him.

Gilbert realized that he had just said something stupid. He shook his head and said, "I...I guess right about now you're liking it less."

A moment passed.

"That Billy Andrews can be a bully," he said finally.

"Then why are you friends with him?" Anne practically spat.


	8. Bandage

Gilbert almost laughed at the sudden burst of passion from the previously quiet girl. "That's a fair question. Well, we go way back. But…lately more and more I've been seeing some things I don't like in him. He's got a hot temper. He looks down on a lot of people. Acts arrogant."

He paused, then said, "He's started fights before, but I never thought I'd see the day he'd stoop to hitting a girl,"

Anne looked confused. "Hitting a girl?"

Anne flushed and looked down at the ground.

"He didn't hit me," she said quietly.

"He didn't? But your wrist…"

Anne looked away. "He grabbed my arm. That's all."

Gilbert nodded. "Can I see it?"

Anne shook her head.

"Can you move it? I'm worried it's broken."

Anne shook her head. "It's not broken," she said. "I can move it,"

"Then it's likely a sprain. It'll have to be wrapped up. The doctor should take a look," Gilbert told her.

"I need to go to school. I'm so late, I'll be in trouble…"

"Why don't you let me walk you to the doctor? He can take a look, get it all wrapped up and then we can walk back to school together?" Gilbert suggested.

Anne shook her head, terrified. She could not go to the doctor. Absolutely not.

"No," she said. "I need to go to school."

"The teacher will understand why you're late when we explain about your arm. He'll see the bandages. You won't be in any trouble." Gilbert persisted.

"I'm not going to the doctor!" She practically shouted at him.

Gilbert took a deep breath. "Okay, no doctor. Would you let me get some cloth and wrap it up for you? Look, we'll use my scarf, all right?" Gilbert took his flannel scarf off and offered it to Anne.

She sighed. Her wrist was throbbing. She refused to take his advice about seeing a doctor, but he was right about one thing- her wrist needed to be wrapped tightly.


	9. Warmth

Finally she nodded. Gilbert gave her eye contact before touching her, as if to make sure she was okay with him touching her arm before he began. He held her wrist so gently it didn't hurt at all. He crossed the band of flannel over her arm and eventually tied it between her thumb and first finger.

"Promise me you'll tell that new family of yours, eh? You'll tell them when you get home? They'll want to make sure you heal up, good as new." Gilbert said, giving Anne a small smile.

Anne just looked down. "I need to go to school," she whispered.

Gilbert stood up, and offered his hand to Anne. Anne hesitated and then took it, with her good hand, standing up.

They walked through the woods in silence, until she finally broke the silence by saying, "I'm sorry. If I was rude. Before."

Gilbert shook his head. "You had a scare. Takes a while to come out of a scare."

"Well, I'm Anne. Anne Shirley. Or, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, now."

She didn't say anything else.

"I'm glad to meet you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert," Gilbert said, smiling for real this time.

Anne walked along beside him, glad to have someone by her side as she made it through these woods. He wasn't going to hurt her. And he wanted to protect her from someone who did want to hurt her. She felt she could trust this kind boy…and that was good, because she knew she'd never feel safe in the woods again.


	10. Shield

As they came out of the woods and were approaching the school building, Anne began to feel anxious.

All this time she kept thinking, _I need to get to school, I need to get to school_.

Yet now that she was actually here, her feet felt frozen to the ground. She could not move.

Gilbert was a few steps ahead of her when he realized she wasn't by his side anymore. He turned back.

He could see her face and immediately looked concerned. "What is it?" He asked.

Anne couldn't speak. But her face said everything.

Gilbert stepped to her side. "Anne?"

Anne wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the door of the school.

Gilbert, seeing where her gaze was, looked from her to the door. He didn't see anything alarming about the door of the school.

"I can't. I can't go in there," she barely whispered.

Gilbert creased his brow. "Did you change your mind about the doctor? 'Cause I can walk with you to-"

"No," Anne whispered. "Leave me alone."

Gilbert looked surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Anne said.

She looked at Gilbert, pleading. "Just go, go to school, the teacher will be mad at you, I made you late, I'm sorry-"

Gilbert walked back to her. "Actually, he doesn't even know I'm back from Alberta yet. Or if he does, he doesn't know that I planned to start school again today. He'd never know I was missing a day I was supposed to be here."

Anne looked back and forth from Gilbert to the school.

She wanted him to go into the school and leave her be.

But at the same time, she didn't want to be alone…she knew Billy would be in school by now, but, she still couldn't face those woods alone.

"Is it Billy?" Gilbert asked, reading her mind. "You don't want to face him. Is that it?"

Anne shivered. "I…"

Gilbert cocked his head, "He can't hurt you, not in school. Everyone would see him. He'd be in trouble hitting a girl. If you're worried about lunch time, or walking home after school, you don't need to be. I'll stay with you the whole time. You have my word."

Anne wrapped her arms around herself. She bit her lip, thinking.


	11. Unhidden

Finally she said. "I wanna go home."

Gilbert nodded slightly and turned back to the woods. "I'll go with you. Is that all right?"

Anne sighed. She nodded and started back through the woods. Gilbert followed.

They reached the end of the woods and came to the meadow. Anne stopped again.

Gilbert looked at her.

Anne felt her stomach turn. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong.

She couldn't go home. Why didn't she think of this? Marilla would see her. Marilla and maybe Matthew too, later. They'd want to know why she didn't go to school. They'd want to know why a boy had walked her home.

Maybe she could pretend to be ill. That's the answer, she thought, but- _no_ , no that wouldn't work. Her torn petticoat…even if she could hide her petticoat, she'd need one of Marilla's needles and her thread to sew it up later. She would have to stay in her room a long time to sew her petticoat, what if Marilla walked in?

And what about her underwear? She couldn't hide that, you can't hide blood...the only place to even try to wash it would be the kitchen sink.

What was she going to do?

Her eyes welled up again.


	12. Nightmare

Gilbert noticed.

"Will they be angry with you for missing school?" He guessed.

"Look, maybe…maybe you were on your way to school and you started to feel sick and I came upon you and offered to walk you back home. You'll be sick. They can't stop you from being sick, right? Would that do?"

Anne looked down. "But my wrist…"

Gilbert pursed his lips. "Ok. Instead of being sick, I came upon you and found that you'd fallen. You tripped over a branch and hurt your arm. So I'm walking you home."

Anne nodded slowly. Maybe that would do.

But- no, _no_ , they might make her go to the doctor.

What if the doctor would guess the other thing that happened to her- what if he could just _tell_ , somehow?

That would be awful.

And there was still the question of what to do with her clothes.

Anne felt two tears roll down her cheeks. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare all over again.

She didn't want to go into the woods again, but somehow, now, it felt as if the woods were the middle ground between home and school, and she couldn't seem to go one way or another.

She briefly considered staying hidden in the woods until school was over. Then she could walk home as usual and Marilla and Matthew would not know she hadn't been in school all day.

But she might risk running into Billy, if she did that.

Well, maybe she didn't have to stay in the woods until school was over. Maybe she could stay for most of the day, and then once school was soon to be over, she'd get out of the woods then and find somewhere else to hide. That way she'd be able to avoid Billy as he came through the woods on his way home. But what if she misjudged the time and ran into him?

"Well, I'm with you to the end. Which way shall we go?" Gilbert asked.

Anne looked at him. She put her face in her hands.

Gilbert came toward her. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. You just need to get somewhere safe and then you'll feel better."

Anne wasn't crying, but she felt sure she'd start soon.

She turned and walked back into the woods.


	13. Resolve

She turned and walked back into the woods.

Gilbert wasn't going to be shaken off; he followed after her.

Anne decided to find her little makeshift house in the woods and crawl into it and stay until she could figure out what to do. There had to be a solution and she'd think of one.

Gilbert followed behind. Anne pretended he wasn't there.

When she reached it, she made her way in and settled herself in the corner. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked up, staring into the branches.

Gilbert stood looking at the shelter for a moment, then he peaked in.

"Nice place you got here," he said. "Mind if I come in?"

Anne looked back at him. She couldn't think with him here.

Finally she nodded.

Gilbert got in and sat across from her.

Anne wiped her eyes. She moved to tuck her feet under her, but found she wasn't comfortable with her feet under her behind. I probably already have bruises, Anne thought with dismay. She had been shoved to the ground and felt it in her back and behind.

She shifted again, and found she wasn't comfortable that way either. She sighed and finally just stretched her legs out in front of her.

Gilbert said, noticing Anne's discomfort, said "I know Billy must have knocked you to the ground. I mean, I saw you on the ground. I hope you're not too sore. I still can't believe he did that! What started it?"


	14. Connection

Anne shook her head. "I…I insulted his sister. I didn't mean to. Really, I-"

Anne was about to tell Gilbert what she had said about Prissy that had angered Billy so much. But she decided against it.

"I just made him angry," She finished. "It was stupid."

Gilbert said, "He still shouldn't have done it. No matter what you said."

Anne closed her eyes. "I can forget about it. Or at least, I can imagine that I've forgotten it."

Gilbert smiled at that.

Then he said, "It wouldn't be a bad idea to tell our teacher, though. He should know Billy's fighting girls now."

Anne shook her head. "Just leave it. It's over."

They sat in the still quiet for a few minutes.

"I've read about the district of Alberta," Anne finally said. "I've never seen it, though. Did you say you saw the mountains?"

"Yeah," Gilbert responded. "They're giants, giants coming out of the earth. You feel so small when you look at them. So insignificant. It's strange.." His voice trailed off as if he were miles away in thought.

"I'd like to go there someday," Anne said.

"Then you will," Gilbert said, smiling. "You seem like a pretty determined girl."

Anne looked into his eyes. "I know now that dreams can come true. I always dreamed of coming to Prince Edward Island and now I'm here."

"Where were you before?" Gilbert asked, interested in this girl.

"Halifax," Anne responded. "I…I lived with a family…the Hammonds. I cooked for them, cleaned, took care of their children."

"You were a regular little housewife, weren't you? Sounds like a lot of work to me. Did you go to school?"

Anne shook her head. "There wasn't time," she answered.

Gilbert could hear the regret in her voice.

"You'll make up for lost time," he assured her. "Just you wait, you'll be top of the class,"

Anne finally smiled at him, a real smile, because it reached her eyes.

Then she said, "On the other hand, I have a long way to go. Even the little ones are ahead of me now."

"Well, hey, if you ever need help…I'm the guy to ask, okay?"

Anne smiled again.

"Thanks," she said.

They sat there, looking at each other. Something seemed to connect then.

After a moment, Gilbert opened his lunch pail. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

Anne shook her head. "No thank you," she said.

He closed the pail. "All right, we'll wait till lunch time. I just thought you might be hungry now."

She looked down at her own lunch basket, which Gilbert had been carrying. "I've got lunch, you don't have to give up yours for me."

"You may have lunch but you don't have apples from my orchard." He took one out and held it up. "Sweetest apples around. Guaranteed. You'll have to try it later," he grinned at her.

Anne managed a smile.

"So how is it, living with the Cuthberts?" Gilbert asked.

"I like it. I like them. Matthew especially. He's kind. He doesn't talk much, but I can tell he's a kindred spirit."

"A kindred spirit, eh?" Gilbert said. He shifted and rested against the wall. "I like the sound of that."

Anne smiled at him, but she was increasingly aware of her pain.


	15. Pause

Anne smiled at him, but she was increasingly aware of her pain.

She'd been in pain earlier, of course, but she felt such a mix of adrenaline and fear that she supposed her pain was hidden beneath that.

Now, sitting down, she had begun to breathe normally, her heart rate slowed down, and her muscles relaxed.

And with that all came the sudden realization of how much her body hurt.

She leaned her head back again, shifting uncomfortably.

"How's your wrist doing?" Gilbert said, seeing her discomfort.

"It's fine. It doesn't hurt that much. Thank you for your scarf. I'll give it back before I go home."

"Keep it as long as you like," Gilbert said.

"Thank you," Anne said, not looking at him, keeping her head back. She closed her eyes.

"Your back hurting, too?" Gilbert asked, creasing his brow. "I mean, he did push you, so…"

Anne nodded slightly. "Just a little bit." She stated, still keeping her head back and her eyes closed.

She was trying to sort of tune him out, because- as nice as he was- she had to focus a minute on just fighting her pain.

Gilbert wasn't sure what to do. He realized he was thirsty and she likely was, too, since she'd been crying.


	16. Need

"Anne, would you feel safe here while I go get us some water?" Gilbert asked. "Or would you rather come with me?"

Anne opened her eyes. She realized that Billy would be in school, it wasn't as if he was creeping about the woods, although…what if he hadn't gone to school? He could have skipped. She doubted he was still looking for her after all this time but she wasn't willing to take the chance.

She slowly got to her feet and motioned for him to go out of the shelter. He did, and then waited for her to step out.

She straightened up, and let go of her dress briefly. When she did, the ripped end of her petticoat fell out.

She felt it right away, leaned down, grabbed it, and tried to tuck it up under her dress and held it firmly. When she stood up straight again, her face was flushed and she avoided Gilbert's eyes.

Gilbert frowned. For a moment he debated saying anything, because after all, he knew girls wear petticoats under their dresses, but he also knew he was not supposed to be seeing a girl's petticoat, and mentioning hers would only embarrass both of them. But on second thought…

"Don't worry about it," he said casually, without looking at her; mentioning it but not elaborating on it.

Anne looked down, her cheeks reddening. "It's nothing. I'm sorry. Where do you want to get water from?"

Gilbert thought. He was planning to just walk over to the creek. The running water was cold, clear, and clean. But then he changed his mind.

"Look," he said. "I'll go home. I'll get us some water and I can scrounge around for a needle and thread for you. Okay?"

Anne flushed.

Then she said, "Won't your parents wonder why you came home?"

"It must be near enough to lunch time now," he said. "My father will think I just came home during the break. It'll give me a chance to check on him."

"Check on him? What's wrong with him?" Anne asked.

"He's…he's been ill." Gilbert said. "Don't worry about it. I'll run home, check on him, get some water and find some sewing supplies for you and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Anne bit her lip.

Gilbert said, "Come with me, still. If you don't want to come home with me you can just wait nearby. All right?"

Anne followed him out of the woods and across the meadow. She hesitated when they came within range of his house.


	17. Interim

She looked around. It seemed unlikely anyone would see her going to his house. All she could see were fields.

Gilbert looked at her. "My father's probably in bed. But I can introduce you, if he's up to it."

Anne hesitated at the porch.

Gilbert looked at her. "You just wanna sit down in the kitchen? You don't have to come all the way in."

Anne felt weird going into his home, especially without his father knowing she was there. But she did not want to take this opportunity to meet his father, either. All she really wanted was to disappear.

She just lingered at the door for a moment, and finally made her way to the chair that was nearest the front door. She didn't sit down in it, though.

Gilbert set down their things on the table and got a couple of glasses from the cupboard.

"Here," he said, handing her a glass of water first, before filling his own glass.

"I'll be right back."

Anne nodded.

Gilbert returned in a few minutes. "My father's asleep, so you won't be able to meet him."

Anne breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Do you want more water? …Or, anything? You hungry yet?"

Anne shook her head.

"Ok, well, I'll run upstairs and find a needle and thread, all right?"

He left.

Anne glanced around the room. Everything was clean, but there was an emptiness about the place. No flowers, no picture frames, no pretty little things sitting out on tables or shelves. She wondered if Gilbert had a mother. She didn't see anything that looked as if it had a "feminine touch" to it at all.

She set her glass down on the table.

Gilbert returned a few minutes later. He had a needle and a spool of white thread. "Will this do?"

"Scissors," Anne said, her voice hollow sounding.

"Right," Gilbert rummaging in a kitchen drawer.

"We can stay here longer- if you want?"

Anne shook her head.

They made their way back to Anne's little house in the woods.


	18. Truth

Anne sat down by herself in the corner, facing away from Gilbert, because she'd have to turn her skirt upward to sew her petticoat.

She cut a length of thread from the spool, then held the thread in one hand and the needle in the other. It hurt her wrist to grasp the thin needle, so she worked as quickly as she could.

But every time she pushed the needle through the fabric, she winced in pain.

Finally she decided to use her other hand instead.

It took longer to use her non-dominant hand, but she was determined to do it.

Eventually though, her wrist began to hurt even from just having to grasp the fabric while her other hand pushed the needle through.

She had only made nine stitches when she felt two fat tears in the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away, frustrated at the slow pace of her work and the pain it was causing.

She started pushing the needle through again. As she pressed, her hand shook. The needle finally popped through but fell on the floor.

"Ugh," she breathed, upset.

Gilbert had been sitting in the door of the little house, facing the woods to give her privacy.

When he heard her, he turned slightly and looked at her.

"You need help?"

"No," Anne said.

Anne leaned over to get it, but didn't see it. The end of her thread hung loose. She'd have to find the needle in the leaves on the floor and thread the needle all over again. A small task, but her wrist ached from the constant squeezing.

"What happened?"

"I dropped the needle." She stated, trying not to let her voice show how close to tears she was. She scolded herself in her mind for getting so upset.

Gilbert stood up and came back in. "Where'd you drop it?"

"I don't know," Anne said, her voice shaking. "Right here. But I don't see it."

They both crouched close to the ground and looked, moving dry leaves out of the way. Finally Anne found it.

She tried to thread the needle, but her hand was shaking.

"Hey. Here," Gilbert breathed, taking the needle from her and threading it himself.

He handed it back to her, threaded.

"Thank you," Anne said evenly.

Gilbert turned away from her so that she could pull up her skirt and work on her petticoat again.

It took her several minutes to make just four more stitches. She had to keep stopping to let her wrist rest. But resting it between stitches, while necessary, almost made it hurt worse when she had to move it again.

Anne couldn't keep a couple of tears from slipping out as she pushed the needle shakily through the fabric.

She stopped and wiped them away, choking on a sob.

Gilbert turned around again. "Anne, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Anne said, trying to hold it back, and pushing her skirt down since Gilbert was facing her direction again.

"Is it too much for your wrist?" He guessed.

"I can do it."

"How much do you still have to do?" Gilbert asked.

Anne pulled her skirt up a tiny bit, turning away from him so he wouldn't see, and looked at her ripped petticoat.

Thirteen stitches. That was all she had done so far.

 _Twenty stitches to an inch_ , she remembered learning.

She looked at the long, long jagged piece of cloth still to sew. Even if she sewed her stitches a much further apart, cheating a little on the size, it would take her forever to finish it all.

She began to cry, turned away from him. She couldn't help it.

"Hey," Gilbert said softly, reaching out and touching her shaking shoulder. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," Anne said shakily, trying to stop her tears.

"Look, I…I could try. I could sew it," Gilbert offered.

Anne wiped her eyes. "You can sew?"

Gilbert nodded. "I can't say I've had a lot of practice. You didn't see little white doilies underneath vases anywhere in my house, did you?"

Anne smiled, closing her eyes. "Doilies aren't sewn. They're crocheted."

Gilbert smiled at her. "So you can see my knowledge of needlework."

Anne laughed.

Gilbert smiled, "Well, I'm no expert, but I do my own mending."

"Your mother doesn't do the mending?"

"No," Gilbert said, his eyes downcast.

Before Anne could respond to that, he brightened up and said, "So why don't you let me give it a try. I can manage it. I can't promise you it will look very nice, though."

Anne said, "If it's sewn badly, at least it's sewn. I just don't want to go home with a big strip of cloth hanging loose. Once my wrist is better I can fix it."

"Can you?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, it's easy. You just cut open the stitches and re-sew it."

"Would the Cuthberts really be angry with you for ripping it?" Gilbert asked.

"It's not that…I just don't want the rip to show because…well, it's just that I don't want to have to _explain_ it…I mean, if I tell Marilla _I_ ripped it off, she'll call me careless. And if I tell her the truth, she'll want to know how it came about that Billy ripped it off."

Gilbert stopped and looked at her. "Billy ripped it off?"

There was a strange look on his face.

Anne flushed.

"I just...assumed you'd stepped on it when you fell?" Gilbert said, looking confused.

Anne bit her lip. "Well…he ripped it himself, but…it was…it just…happened."

Gilbert looked at her a moment. "Why would he…."

Anne cut in, sounding annoyed, "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said, "Of course. Do you want…" Gilbert looked down at her skirt. So they had settled on him sewing up the petticoat, but actually doing it was another matter. He didn't know quite how to start. "Uh…do you want….I guess you'll have to…"

Anne blushed, too, realizing she'd have to let him see it. She pulled her petticoat out as much as she could, but there was no avoiding it- she'd have to pull her skirt up and tuck it around herself, letting her petticoat be almost completely exposed.

They both looked awkward for a moment and avoided each other's eyes.

Gilbert threaded the needle and then looked at the petticoat. His hand shook a little when he reached out to touch it.

Anne sighed at the same time Gilbert took an unsteady breath.

"Okay…" Gilbert said, almost laughing. "This is…okay, this doesn't have to be weird. It's…it's just cloth, right? It's not like-"

"Right, right. It's cloth. It's nothing strange- it could just as well be a dress, if you think about it..."

"Yeah...yeah. It's really no different than a dress when you think about it. It's just a white dress underneath a regular dress, that's all," Gilbert rushed on.

"Exactly! It shouldn't even be considered part of underwear, I mean it's not like it's underwear, not _really_ …" Anne blushed at realizing she'd just said the word 'underwear' to him.

Gilbert shook his head and laughed. "It's only weird if we make it weird. It'll be okay. Let's do this."

Anne nodded, pushing down her embarrassment.

Gilbert reached out and took the petticoat more confidently this time, lined the fabric up, and began to sew.

After a couple minutes, Gilbert had to move over a fold of her dress. As he did so, he had a sharp intake of breath and stopped for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Anne asked.

He didn't answer for a moment.

"What?" She asked again.

"Nothing," He said slowly.

After a few minutes he said, carefully, "So he knocked you to the ground, and then he grabbed your arm…"

Anne said, "No, that's not what happened. He just grabbed my arm and I just- I just fell-"

Gilbert questioned, "Then when did he rip your petticoat?"

Anne stopped. "What are you getting at?" She said tersely.

Gilbert took a deep breath. "Nothing, I…I just- thought-"

Anne said, "Whatever you're thinking, stop it right now. Nothing happened."

Anne was so defensive that Gilbert felt sure something more had happened.

He was quiet.

Finally, Gilbert broached, "You know, Anne, if there's more to the story-"

"There's not," Anne said flatly.

"Then why are your stockings torn too?" Gilbert pointed out.

Anne stared down at her leg.

She had not noticed.

But Gilbert had.

And that– Anne realized- was what had caused him to stop and breath in sharply a moment ago.

They were high up enough on her thigh- an area that would normally be covered up- that he wouldn't even have been able to see them, except her petticoat was turned up to sew.

There were five of them.

Five rips, each the size of a fingernail, scraped across the inside of her left thigh.

They were unmistakably caused by someone's fingers, because he could see the fingernail marks impressed into her leg, as if her leg had been angrily grabbed, and the scrapes made by them had been enough to draw tiny streaks of blood across her thigh.

Now Anne was staring down at what Gilbert had seen.

She didn't know how long she stared at those five little rips before Gilbert brought her out of her solitude– by saying softly-

"Anne."

Anne could not look up at him. Suddenly her eyes were full of tears. She could not blink or they would spill over and go rolling down her cheeks.

 _Don't cry. Don't cry_. She willed herself. Anne could not move. She could barely breathe.

"…I think we need to tell someone," Gilbert said seriously. His voice, and the way he looked at her, brows creased, she knew that he knew.

"Tell them what?!" Anne spit out, finally looking into his eyes. "Being bullied isn't the end of the world you know. There are bullies everywhere. So, he hit me. So? This isn't the first time a boy has hit me-"

"Anne." Gilbert said again, calmly, cutting across her protest.

"What?" She spat.

Gilbert looked at her eyes. Finally he said:

"You told me he didn't hit you."

His statement hung in the air.

Anne stared at him, caught in a lie.

Gilbert asked," But he wasn't there to hit you, was he?"

Gilbert went on, thinking out loud, "He grabbed your arm. He pushed you to the ground. He ripped your petticoat from you. And he left fingernail marks down your stockings."

There was a pause before Gilbert continued. "Yet you don't have a mark on you- no bruises, no swollen eye, no split lip."

Gilbert looked into Anne's eyes. "He wasn't after your face, was he?"

Anne looked away from him.

"I'm…I'm guessing I know what he did."

Her face twisted in agony. "Don't tell," she whispered, shaking her head. "Please, please…don't breathe a word of this to anyone."

Gilbert took a breath, looking like he didn't know what to do. "People should know. His parents, yours…the doctor maybe…"

Anne looked angry. "No!" She said, fiery.

"Why not?" Gilbert asked, his face looking like a question mark.

"Because! Because I don't want them to, that's why. It's nobody else's business. It's not your business, either, but I couldn't exactly keep it from you, you saw him."

"But…it's…look, it doesn't say anything bad about you. This is about him."

Anne shook her head. "No, it's not about him. It's not about him because he can go on like nothing happened, and I can't."

Anne's voice caught in her throat and she couldn't go on.

"Hey," Gilbert said softly, leaning in. "You said being bullied isn't the end of the world. Well, this is more than just bullying, but this doesn't have to be the end of the world either. We can get through this."

"We?" Anne asked, wiping her eyes.

"I told you I'm with you to the end, didn't I? And this isn't the end." Gilbert said, giving her a sad smile.

Anne looked up at him, then, into his eyes, and she didn't feel so alone anymore.

But the wind blew through - and she shuddered.

"I don't know what to do." She choked on her words.


	19. Patchwork

But the wind blew through- and she shuddered.

"I don't know what to do." She choked on her words.

Gilbert looked down at the needle in his hand. "Look, we still have all afternoon and a little bit of morning left to finish this" he motioned to her skirt. "So we'll sew and talk, okay? We'll figure something out."

Anne pulled her arms around herself, watching him begin work on the petticoat again. After a moment she said, "I wish I'd remembered to ask you to bring a few straight pins. It would have made the work easier."

Gilbert shrugged. "I never pin anything first when I mend,"

"Really?"

"Well, nothing I've mended has been a _lot_ of stitches, just a small hole or rip every once in a while. I haven't done seams before, and I've never hemmed anything…I can see why you'd pin the fabric first." He stopped and checked the way the fabric was lined up before he continued sewing.

Anne sighed. "I'm sorry you're having to do this," she said. "But I do consider it lucky that you know how to do some mending. I suppose your mother-"

Gilbert interrupted, "Anne, I was thinking. Do you do the washing for the Cuthberts?"

"I help," Anne said.

"Well, when you and Miss Cuthbert do the wash, she's going to see your clothes, isn't she? I'll get this sewn up for you, but it's easy to see it's been mended. And your stockings are torn…and if you've got anything else on that's torn or dirty-"

"There's blood." Anne said, choking on the words. She hadn't meant to tell him that, but her secret worry escaped from her before she could prevent it. She realized she had been twisting the fabric of her skirt around her fingers, nervous. She pushed it flat, but to her dismay it was already wrinkled.

"There's blood?" Gilbert repeated softly. Anne thought he would look disgusted, but he didn't. His eyes locked to hers, and he looked incredibly sorrowful.

Unburdening herself by telling him her secret worry, she took a shuddery breath: "And...and I don't know what to do, because...because I can't wash it out. At least, I don't think I can. I've never had to wash blood out of fabric. I don't even know if it _can_ come out."

"It can come out," Gilbert said quietly. "My...uh, my father...he's coughed up blood...a lot, lately. And it washes out. You have to soak it first- in cold water, not hot- and then you have to scrub a lot, and it takes time, and sometimes it doesn't come out right away, it might take a few washes, but eventually it comes out."

"What happened to your father?" Anne asked, noticing that up until now he had guided her away from questions about his family.

Gilbert took a deep breath. "He's been sick. For a long time now."

He didn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," Anne told him, feeling every bit of the emotion he was keeping in.

Gilbert nodded, but put his head down and began sewing more quickly.

"Well...then…I'll tell Marilla I want to do the wash on my own now. To ease her burden…they wanted an orphan to help them, so…so I'll say that I want to be of more help. I'll do all the washing by myself from now on."

"What do you think she would say if you told her what happened with Billy?"

Anne shook her head. "I don't want to find out."

"Do you think she'd be angry?"

"I don't know," Anne whispered. "Maybe."

"Well, she _should_ be angry. Not with you. With Billy." Gilbert stated. "If she's angry with you, she's wrong to be."

Anne was quiet a moment. Then she said, "What if she…"

She shook her head, unwilling to finish that thought.

"What?" Gilbert asked.

Anne sighed, deciding to let him in on what she had done. "Billy was angry with me for what I said about his sister."

Gilbert nodded. "You said that. But Anne, really, whatever you said, no matter how angry Billy was, it doesn't mean he had any right to- to…I…I don't even understand why he would _think_ of doing something like this- _why_ this would have even entered his _mind_ -"

"I know why it entered his mind." Anne said softly. "I told the girls at school that his sister Prissy was having intimate relations with Mr. Philips."

"What?!" Gilbert stared at her. He couldn't help looking shocked by her statement.

Anne sighed. "I saw them in the supply closet. Touching each other."

Gilbert stopped stitching a moment, letting that sink in.

Anne continued, "And when people do that, when they touch each other…"

Anne stopped, startled, suddenly realizing that her prior knowledge of the pet mouse had likely been refuted.

Now, with a sickening feeling of dread, she felt she knew the truth of what had actually been happening to Mrs. Hammond when her husband came home drunk.

"Well, I told the girls that Prissy could be with child." Anne's eyes suddenly filled with tears as she said, "Because that's always what happened with Mrs. Hammond…"

Anne stopped talking and shook her head, beginning to cry again.

Gilbert seemed to melt at the sight of her crying, his eyes deep with concern. "What is it? Mrs. Hammond, you said that was the lady you worked for, but what does she have to do with all of this?"

"The people I worked for- the Hammonds- I used to-I used to _hear_ them. At night. When Mr. Hammond came home drunk and he wanted Mrs. Hammond to pet…to…to do things…it…it sounded like-"

Anne stopped and shuddered. "Back then, I found it almost amusing…but I never knew that's what it was like to be intimate…how awful…"

Gilbert didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "Men aren't animals, Anne. At least most aren't." He bit his lip. "I'm sorry you had to hear them."

"I hope that isn't what it's like all the time. Being…intimate…when you get married...and..."

Gilbert shook his head. "No," he said. "No. It can't be. I'm sure it's not."

Anne hugged her knees to her chest.

"Not every man is going to act like Mr. Hammond," he said. He looked into her eyes. "And not every guy is like the one who hurt you."

Anne shook herself. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I'll never marry. I don't see how I could."

"Hey," Gilbert said, leaning forward. "Don't do that. Don't let what Billy did determine your future. I don't see any reason why you can't still get married."

Anne looked outside at the trees, away from his gaze. "You aren't supposed to do things like this. I know that much. And the Hammonds...they were awful people, I know I shouldn't speak badly of them, but just to _you_ I'll say it, they were awful, but...at least they were _married_...you...you aren't supposed to do things like this..."

"This wasn't your fault, Anne, why should it have to ruin your chance of marrying?"

Anne shook her head. "But who- who would- I'd have to tell him…"

"I mean it. You can't look at this as some sort of blemish on your character. It's not, and it doesn't make you unmarriageable. If a man would change his mind about marrying you after he found out about this, then he's not the sort of man who deserves you," Gilbert said forcefully.

Anne looked at him without saying anything.

"Well, it doesn't matter," she said finally, looking down at her arms. "I'm so homely, I can't imagine anyone marrying me. Awful red hair, much too thin, and all these horrible freckles…"

Gilbert smiled, trying not to laugh.

Then Anne said, "Unless it's a missionary who just needs a wife as a helpmeet in the mission field, like the Bible says. I suppose a foreign missionary mightn't be so particular."

Gilbert couldn't hold it back and laughed at this.

"It's not funny," Anne protested.

"It _is_ funny. It's very funny," Gilbert said.

Anne said coldly, "I fail to see how me being homely is so amusing,"

Gilbert shook his head. "It's not. _You're_ not. Homely, I mean."

Anne looked at him doubtfully. "Well, I already knew you were kind, but thank you for proving it."

Gilbert looked into her eyes. "I'm not being kind. I'm being truthful. You have nice eyes. They look... _intelligent_. They make me wonder what you're thinking. You look as if you're always thinking something profound."

After a moment he continued, "And you have a nice smile- the few brief times I've seen it- it really does something. Kind of just lights you up."

He smiled when the corners of Anne's mouth turned up in a small smile.

"And your hair"

"My hair," Anne interrupted, "is my lifelong sorrow. I know I'd be better looking- just a little bit, at least, if it were something different. But," she sighed, "It's a burden I must bear. Maybe God made it red to keep me from becoming vain."

Gilbert laughed again.

"Well, I like it," he said. "You don't see red hair too much, you know? It makes you stand out. Makes you special."

Anne ducked her head, wanting to hide the pleased flush that filled her face.

"Besides," Gilbert said. "You're smart. I can tell you are. And being smart is better than being pretty."

Anne looked up at him this time and smiled for real.


	20. Sundown

Gilbert walked her home late in the day, when the sun was beginning its hazy descent into the pink horizon. The days were getting shorter, and winter was coming.

Anne shivered as she pulled her shawl around herself, her breath making little puffs of clouds in the air.

Gilbert walked with her as far as the meadow, and then she told him she'd better go alone now.

If Marilla or Matthew saw a boy walking her home, they'd worry.

Anne began to unwrap Gilbert's scarf from her arm as they stood together at the edge of the meadow.

"Keep it," Gilbert said, touching her arm gently. "You might need it later."

"I don't want Marilla and Matthew to see-"

"But they'll have to know- at least just the part about your arm," Gilbert said. "Although I think you should tell them the rest, too."

"No," Anne said firmly. "I won't. I can't."

"Well, keep the scarf. You can always tell them you tripped over a root while walking to school. Anybody can trip over a root. And a boy at school let you borrow his scarf. That's all."

He looked at her quietly, a bit sad.

Anne looked down at the careful way he'd wrapped it around her- snug enough to alleviate her pain, but not too tight. "Okay," she said at last.

They stood there a minute, looking at each other.

They'd spent the whole day together- the whole horrible day that had somehow been better for being together- and now they didn't know quite how to end it.

"Will you be at school tomorrow?" Gilbert finally asked.

Anne bit her lip. "I suppose I'll have to be," she said.

But she looked back at the woods, which were darkening now in the soft twilight and would still be not-quite-light yet in the morning when she had to face them again.

Gilbert spoke up suddenly, an idea coming to him. "I'll meet you here tomorrow. Then you won't have to walk to school alone. Is that all right?"

Anne looked gratefully at him.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for…everything."

Gilbert smiled at her. "Tomorrow," he said. "I'll come early."

Anne turned homeward alone, but when she reached the edge of Green Gables, she turned back to him.

He was still there, waiting, making sure she got home safe.

When she reached the front door, with her hand on the knob, she turned back again- and he was gone.


	21. Mask

As Anne stepped into the house, she took a deep breath. _Be normal_ , she said silently to herself, _Just be normal. Everything will be fine._

She stopped and took a look at herself before walking into the kitchen. Nothing looked out place on her dress. There was a little dirt on it, but that could be explained away, if needed, by saying it had happened when she had fallen over the root that caused her to sprain her wrist.

 _No_ , she quickly realized. _The dirt's on the back of my dress, not the front. I…I fell backwards…while playing…at recess._

Anne's stockings had dirt on them too, but hopefully Marilla wouldn't notice. Anyway, Anne would wash them quickly.

She stepped into the kitchen and saw Marilla cutting up potatoes.

"Hi," Anne said quietly.

Marilla turned toward her, startled.

"Gracious, Anne. You snuck up on me! I'm not used to you slipping in so quietly. Have you finally learned how to come into a house without bursting in and letting the door slam shut behind you?"

"I couldn't," Anne said, lifting her arm just a bit.

Marilla made a face, coming over and looking at her arm. "All right, tell me what happened."

Anne took a breath before she said, almost robotically, "I was walking to school and I tripped over a root. I fell down and hurt my wrist. A boy who was walking to school gave me his scarf so I could wrap it up. I'm fine now."

Having finished her rehearsed speech, she looked up at Marilla.

Marilla looked unhappy. "Well, I've cut up potatoes and I was going to have you start mashing them, but I suppose I'll have to do it myself."

"I'm sorry," Anne said, feeling very much in the way.

"It's all right," Marilla said, a tad more gently this time, "It isn't as if you meant to do it. But I suppose you weren't watching where you were going, were you? You're always lost in a daydream. Perhaps this will teach you to stop dreaming and pay attention to what's around you."

Anne nodded, hoping that was the end of it and Marilla would let it drop.

She did.

She went back to her bowl and began mashing the potatoes herself.

"Is there anything I can do?" Anne asked, feeling rather unwanted.

"Fetch me the milk and butter, please. Oh, and the salt."

Anne set down her bookstrap and lunch basket on the table.

"Well hang up your hat and shawl before you start helping me," Marilla said, as if Anne should have known better.

"Right," Anne said, going to take them off and hang them on the coat rack near the front door.

Before going back into the kitchen, she paused in the entryway and took a few unsteady breaths. Why was she having such a bad feeling just from talking to Marilla about dinner? Marilla was not exactly a warm fuzzy person, hardly what Anne would call maternal, but she wasn't mean to her, not really. So what was wrong?

Anne tried to push down her feelings and marched back in.

As Anne helped Marilla with dinner- as much as she was able, without using her other arm- she didn't say one word.

Finally Marilla said, "What's gotten into you? You're such a chatterbox."

Anne shrugged and put the salt away after Marilla had added it to the mashed potatoes.

"Don't misunderstand me, I enjoy having some solitude, but are you unwell?"

Anne whispered, "No. I'm all right."

Sigh.

 _I better perk up a little,_ Anne thought, _she's sure to suspect something. I'm never this quiet. Mrs. Hammond used to say my tongue was hinged in the middle. And she was right. I'm never this quiet. But what can I talk about?_

"What did you learn at school today?" Marilla asked.

Anne blanked out for a moment.

What could she say?

"Um...I…" Anne bit her lip. "We…we did a lot of…"

"Come to the point, Anne."

"Long division," Anne finally came up with.

"Oh? And how you finding it?" Marilla asked.

"I understand it," Anne said, "But even the little ones are ahead of me."

"Well, that's understandable," Marilla answered. "They've all been at school and you haven't."

"I've been at school! I was in school all day!" Anne put in quickly.

Marilla looked at her funny. "Yes, I know you went to school," she said. "I meant that the other children haven't had any interruption in their schooling, and you have. I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time at all."

Anne let go of a deep breath.

Marilla went to the breadbox and took out a loaf.

"Anne, is something wrong? You're so quiet and now you're so jumpy."

"No," Anne said. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry. Since I can't do much to help you at the moment, do you mind if I go practice my division?"

But without even waiting for an answer, Anne picked up her bookstrap with her good hand and went up the stairs.


	22. Flashback (Warning- trigger)

Anne tried to do her long division.

For about two minutes.

Then she set her slate on the table beside her bed and laid down on her bed.

She felt dirty.

She got up and pulled her stockings off. She looked at the rips in them and noticed a dirty handprint on the inside of the right thigh.

She felt like she was going to throw up. She balled up the stockings and pushed them under her bed, out of sight.

But then she realized she'd have to put them back on to go down to dinner. She pulled them on again, vowing to wash them later that night.

She went over to her washbasin and washed her face. She saw her reflection in the window pane.

There wasn't anything different about her face. She had thought that what had happened would show, somehow. But she didn't look any different than before.

She went back to her bed and laid down again.

She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then closed her eyes.

 _No_ , flashed into her mind. _Please…_

Her eyes snapped open.

She breathed heavily for a moment.

No.

No.

 _No._

Suddenly Anne felt as if it were happening all over again.

It wasn't just a memory.

It was real.

She could almost feel the ground with its dry leaves underneath her, instead of her soft bed.

She sat up, pulling herself out of the awful feeling that it was happening to her again.

She sat on her bed, breathing heavily.

Then exhaustion hit again.

 _Why can't I lie down?_ Anne thought with despair _. I'm so tired…so, so tired._

She tried to lie down on her back, again, staring up at the ceiling and trying to breathe evenly.

But she couldn't. She realized she _could not_ lay on her back. When she lay on her back, she felt like she was being suffocated. She felt vulnerable.

When she lay on her back, she could almost feel _him_ on top of her again.

She rolled over onto her side, clutching her pillow to her face to hide the tears that suddenly flowed.

She let a few tears seep out, but then with all her might she forced herself to hold back her tears.

She rolled onto her stomach, hoping that sleeping downward would be better. _No one is on top of me_ , she told herself, hugging her pillow. _I'll just sleep on my stomach. I'll know no one is on top of me if I sleep on my stomach._

Her head ached.

She said her prayers in her head and asked God to let her go to sleep.


	23. Insistence

When supper was ready, Marilla called up the stairs, "Anne?"

She called her twice more, but when there was no answer she came up the stairs.

She opened the door and found Anne curled up on her bed, fast asleep.

"Anne?" she called from the doorway.

She came over and gently shook her shoulder. "Anne," she said again, more loudly. She then noticed there was some dirt on the back of Anne's dress. She frowned.

Anne stirred. When she realized Marilla was there, she sat up quickly.

She breathed hard. "I'm sorry," she quickly said.

Marilla frowned. "Sorry for what? Are you sure you aren't ill? You can tell me if you are, you know that, don't you?"

Anne looked around her room, getting her bearings.

"I'm not," she said. "It must just be my arm, I guess it hurts more than I thought."

Marilla put her hand out and touched Anne's forehead.

"I'm not sick," Anne insisted. "Don't make me go to the doctor."

Marilla frowned. "Well, even if aren't ill, we'll need to go about your arm anyway."

"No!" Anne said.

Marilla looked shocked. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Anne said. "Nothing, nothing…just…I don't _need_ to go to the doctor."

"Who wrapped up your arm for you?" Marilla asked.

"Just a boy."

Marilla waited, her eyebrows raised.

"Um…his name was…Gilbert-something." Anne said, trying to seem as if she couldn't quite remember. She wanted it to seem as if a boy had just casually lent her the scarf, rather than having it sound as if she'd spent all day with him.

"Gilbert Blythe?" Marilla asked with interest.

"Yes, that's him. Do you know him?" Anne asked her.

"Yes, I know the Blythes' quite well. I didn't realize Mr. Blythe was back from Alberta yet. I do hope he's doing better." Marilla looked somber for a moment.

Then Marilla said, "Well, his son is a nice boy. When you give back his scarf, remember to tell him thank you."

"'I will," Anne said.

"Come down to supper now," Marilla said, "And for goodness sakes, Anne, how did you get so dirty? Look at the back of your dress. Look at your stockings."

Anne brushed off her dress. "Um. I fell. Playing. At recess."

"Well, wear your brown dress to school. I'll wash your other things tomorrow."

"No," Anne said quickly. "I want to wash everything myself."

Marilla looked at her funny.

"I…I was thinking, Marilla. I really ought to be doing more for you. I mean, I wasn't the boy you expected, but you let me stay, and, and I really like it here, and you never did get what you really wanted-"

"You don't need to re-hash all that, Anne. We aren't looking to make a change. Matthew never even thinks of it. Nor do I. What's done is done, and here you are, and that's that."

Anne pleaded, "I just want to _help_ , Marilla. I thought I'd take over the washing from now on. I know how to do it! I used to do the washing for the Hammonds. And it would free up _so_ much of your time."

Marilla gave her a rare smile. "It would free up my time, and it's good of you to think of it. Perhaps soon. But right now you'd best not try to do any washing at all. You'll have to heal up first."

"I can do it, though! I can! My wrist doesn't even hurt!" Anne insisted.

Marilla looked at her. "Anne, you _just_ said, when I woke you up, that your arm hurt worse than you thought. Now it would be foolish of you to try to do it. The dry laundry alone would be a challenge, hauling wet laundry would be an impossibility."

"But-"

"Anne, I am glad you want to help. And I'd be happy for you to take on more in good time. But just now it would be foolish. You must see that."

Anne looked desperate. What could she do?

Marilla went to the door. "Come to dinner now. And don't look so despondent! I never said you couldn't help me. I only said you couldn't do the wash. Perhaps you can do a bit of dusting. That's something you don't need both hands for. But you must be very careful when you do it."

"Yes, Marilla," Anne said, getting up off her bed and following her downstairs.

Now she didn't know what to do. And she didn't have very long to figure out a solution, either. Marilla said she'd do the washing the very next day.


	24. Books

Chapter 24

Author's Note, one thing I had to do for school in the past two weeks was a big thing about the history of children's literature, so in this chapter I ended up mentioning books I had to read about!

Also, in the scene where Anne is going to school for the first time (in the t.v. show) I noticed that she has a book she brings to school called Elsie's New Relations by Martha Finley. It is part of a series called Elsie Dinsmore. I read it when I was 13 like Anne.

Since I saw she has the book in the tv show, I wanted to include it in this story too.

Billy Andrews is going to mention her Elsie book later in another chapter too.

Dinner was very quiet, as Anne hardly spoke at all. It was out of character for her, but she was afraid that if she spoke too much she would let something slip about missing school. She considered making up a story about being at school- and she actually came up with several amusing anecdotes about things that _could_ have happened- before giving up the plan entirely due to being worried she wouldn't be able to keep her story straight since her head was pounding and she really just wanted to go back to sleep.

"I'll wash the dishes, Marilla," Anne said, tiredly, as dinner was coming to an end. She started to stand up.

"Anne, you mustn't do the washing, your arm needs rest," Marilla said, sounding as if Anne was a bother. She began collecting the dishes herself.

Matthew watched her with concern. Then he said, "Why don't you go and read in the parlor? That won't hurt your arm, will it?" He smiled at her, knowing she enjoyed reading.

Anne gave him a grateful smile, and said, "Thank you. Excuse me," she said, leaving the table.

Anne went up to her room and pulled out her book. She only had a few books of her very own- her school reader and her math book, and an Elsie Dinsmore series book called Elsie's New Relations. She was a quick reader, but she'd been reading it slowly on purpose to make it last longer.

She took it downstairs and curled up on the rug on the floor near the fireplace.

She read one chapter, then another, and wondered if she should stop. She hated to stop reading, but she also hated to finish too quickly and then be sad it was over.

Of course she would read the book again and again, but she'd never again have the deliciousness of not knowing what was going to happen next. That only came with the very first reading, and she wanted to savor it.

Sighing, she closed the book.

Matthew, who'd been looking at the newspaper, looked over at her. "Finished?" He asked.

"Not yet," Anne said. "I think I'll save it. I hate running out of things to read."

Matthew smiled and gestured at the paper. "You can always read the news."

"I'll read the news," Anne said, "But only to know what's happening. The news isn't much of a story. Not a _story_ story. Not the kind of thing you can lose yourself in. What did you like to read, Matthew, when you were my age?"

Matthew considered it. "Well, I liked…" His voice trailed off. "We've still got our books- the ones from our child-days. Marilla?" He called out. "We've still got our old books, haven't we? The ones we had as children?"

Marilla came into the parlor, drying her hands on her apron. "We surely do," she said, "In the cabinet right here. No, the one with the embroidered screen over it. Yes, down at the bottom." She watched as Matthew found the right spot.

"Why?" Marilla asked. She looked over at Anne.

"For Anne. She ought to have more to read."

Marilla looked unconvinced. "Our childhood books were gifts from our dear mama and papa and are very precious to us," She began.

"Marilla?" Matthew looked at her, surprised. "You would keep them from her?"

Marilla blushed, looking as if she knew she sounded stingy not to let Anne read their books, but she also looked as if she couldn't trust Anne to treat her things with care and respect.

Anne felt sad by Marilla's distrust in her. "I'd treat them with the very best of care, Marilla. Truly. I'll- I'll only read them right here in the parlor, I won't take them anywhere, not outdoors, not to the kitchen, not even to my room. I promise. And- and I'll be sure to wash my hands before I ever even touch them, and I won't crinkle the pages, and-"

Marilla sighed. "That's enough, Anne. I'm sure you'll be careful, especially since you know how valuable I consider them. All right, you may take them out."

Matthew gave Anne one of his lovely smiles and began pulling books out of the cupboard, handing them to her one by one.

Then he sat down by her side on the carpet. "This one," he said softly, "I spent hours with."

Anne read aloud, "Tales about Birds, Illustrative of Their Nature, Habits, and Instincts. By Thomas Bingley".

Knowing that Matthew- quiet, gentle Matthew- had spent hours enjoying this book, made her want to read it before any of the others.

"I'm going to read this one first, then," she told him.

Her gave her a smile back.

"What else did you read, Matthew?" she said, setting that one aside.

Without saying anything else, Matthew handed her, one by one, Lucy Barton's Natural History of the Holy Land, Washington Irving's Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus, and The Life of Dr. Benjamin Franklin.

He stopped at Henry Ward Beecher's Lectures to Young Men, saying "I suppose that one won't do you much good, but you're welcome to it."

Anne couldn't help smiling. Marilla walked in, finished with the dishes, and her interest in their old books stirred enough to come in and reminisce.

"Matthew showed me some of his books, Marilla. Did you share books? Or were some of them just yours?"

Marilla sat on the sofa behind them. "We had some of the same. These two were ours both."

She picked up two books, brushed them lovingly, and then handed them off to Anne.

"Isaac Watts's Divine and Moral Songs for Children. We'd always look at that one on Sundays with Mama, curled up on the sofa, after tea...in our early days, before she became...ill."

Marilla looked sad, but only for a moment.

Then she said, "And Catharine Maria Sedgwick's Morals of Manners. Mama read that one so much that she had memorized a fair bit of it. I can still hear her words in my head today."

Anne did not know what it was like to be a small child curled up on the sofa with a mama and hear her voice reading to you. She thought it must have been lovely, and something in her heart ached for herself, but ached even more for Marilla- it seemed so unfair, she thought, for Marilla to have started out life being so very cherished, only to find that love had left her cold and alone during the years that she would have needed her mama the most.

But Marilla shook herself out of her memory and then said, "Lectures to Young Men. Really, Matthew? Anne, _this_ is what you ought to be reading." She plucked a book from the carpet and held it up, "Mary Martha Sherwood's Lady of the Manor."

"Ooh, it sounds wonderful," Anne said, shivering.

"It is. It's a moral tale." Marilla said matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Anne said, finding the title Lady of the Manor to be a bit misleading. She'd expected something romantic.

"Or this," Marilla continued, "J.M. Neale's Tales of Christian Endurance. Good, wholesome educational reading."

"Come now, Marilla. You haven't shown her your favorite."

Anne looked down at the rest of the books. Which one was Marilla's favorite? She'd already pulled out the most dry, resolute books.

"I don't know what you mean," Marilla said, "My favorites were what I just showed you- the moral tales."

Matthew smiled again. "All right," was all he said.

"Matthew, do you have something to say?" Marilla asked pointedly.

Matthew shook his head. "Not a thing."

Marilla stood up and walked back toward the kitchen. "Well, I can't be sitting around wasting time with children's stories. I have work to do. And Anne, you would too, if you hadn't hurt your arm- enjoy your reading, because soon I'll expect you to be up working, not lying about in the parlor,"

Anne said softly, "Yes, ma'am."

When she'd left, Matthew handed Anne a book with a smile, giving it a tap on the cover. He winked at her.

Anne looked at the book's cover. "Miss Crespigny," she whispered slowly, not entirely sure she was pronouncing it correctly. "This? This was Marilla's favorite?"

"Yes," Matthew mouthed.

She opened up the cover. The publishing date startled her. "Wait…but this wasn't out when Marilla was a young girl."

"No."

"She bought this recently! Why isn't it on the shelves you _use_? Why did she hide it down here in the cupboard with your childhood books? Is she ashamed of it?" Then Anne had a revolutionary thought: " It…it isn't _wicked_ , is it?"

"Of course not," Matthew said quietly. "But Marilla wants you to think she only reads moral tales. And this has nothing to do with teaching right from wrong, it's just a story. If I recall right, it's sort of a love story."

Anne was delighted with this secret. She had not thought Marilla would read a story like that. It presented a new side of Marilla, one that intrigued Anne.

Anne had promised to read Matthew's bird book first, but Miss Crespigny was going to be devoured as soon as she had succeeded in learning all there was to learn about birds.

With new reading material, and with that intriguing notion of finding out what kind of love story Marilla enjoyed, Anne's evening was filled with pleasant distraction.

She put Elsie's New Relations on hold, knowing she could read that any time, and dutifully kept her word about learning Matthew's bird book. She found it very informative, but couldn't wait for it to be over so she could plunge into Marilla's story.

Finally, because it was growing late and she knew Marilla would send her off to bed soon, she put a ribbon in Matthew's bird book and put it back in the cupboard. She decided to just give a quick glance to Miss Crespigny before she headed up to bed.

It began with talk of a party and described the young heroine- Lisbeth Crespigny- as a "peculiar" girl, flighty, who made "confounded significant speeches." and who often lost her temper. The girl was taken in by a widow some years ago, and was now discussing parties and dresses.

Anne liked it already, even in just the first few pages. While it seemed at first the girl might be a bit like her, there was one difference, of the utmost importance- Lisbeth was described with "magnificent hair; her black brows and lashes were a wonder of beauty; her eyes were dark, mysterious, supercilious."

Anne knew that a person's looks should not matter, and they didn't, not when it came to character- but she couldn't help feeling that reading a story about a very beautiful girl would be quite different from reading a story about one who was plain.

Anne wondered if Marilla had any inkling, when she'd read this book some ten years ago, that someday she herself would be taking in a flighty orphan who had a temper and spoke too much.

 _No matter_ , Anne thought with dismay _, I'm sure she won't see any parallels_ … _I'm no beauty with magnificent hair._


	25. Fade

25\. Fade

Anne washed for bed with mixed emotions.

She was happy she'd had new things to read, it perked her up and gave her a feeling of hope.

But she also knew that nothing had changed.

Her books gave her a world to escape to, but eventually she knew she would have to come back.

After she'd filled her wash basin and washed, she dumped it and refilled it and washed again.

Then she pulled off her stockings with their five tiny rips from Billy's fingernails, and their dirty handprint from Billy hand.

She angrily balled up the stockings and plunged them into the new water in her washbasin, and scrubbed and scrubbed at them with her bar of soap.

His dirty handprint came off easily.

 _No,_ she corrected herself. _The dirt came off. The handprint is still there. Maybe it will be there always, even if I can't see it anymore._

The thought made her feel sick.

She didn't want to wear these stocking anymore, ever, but she didn't see that she had any choice, unless she told Marilla what had happened.

So she just kept scrubbing at them until her wrist couldn't take it any longer, and then she rinsed them out the best she could and hung them up to dry. She hoped they'd be dry by morning. She knew they'd be cold.

She still didn't know what to do with her petticoat.

Marilla had told her to wear her brown dress to school tomorrow and she'd do all Anne's other washing.

But Anne had washed her own stockings and would re-wear them to prevent Marilla from seeing them. Could she do that with her torn petticoat? Perhaps, but not forever. Even though the rip was repaired, it was still plain to see that the petticoat had been torn and mended.

Anne decided to wear the same petticoat again tomorrow. If Marilla said anything about it, she'd say that she'd forgotten Marilla wanted to wash it. Maybe she could lie and convince her it wasn't even dirty.

It might work. For a day or two, maybe.

But she didn't have any idea what to do about her underwear.

It wasn't just torn.

And she didn't know how to hide blood.


	26. Next

26\. Next

Anne let her nightgown fall down over her head as if it was there to hug her, and she got into bed. She pulled the covers up high around her, imagining she was a tough, strong grizzly bear in a quiet, safe cave.

Because of how tired she had been before, she had thought sleep would come easily.

But instead she lay in the dark, eyes wide.

 _Sleep,_ she told herself. _You'll be tired in the morning._

But sleep wouldn't come.

She tossed and turned for what felt like hours before unconsciousness finally took over.

And when it did, she wished it hadn't.

Later, when she woke up, she couldn't remember the nightmares she'd had, but she knew they'd been awful, and she woke up feeling as though she hadn't slept at all.

She dragged herself out of bed and washed her face, the cold water splashing her.

She took her stockings from where she'd hung them to dry, and felt with dismay that they were still damp. They crinkled where the soap hadn't gotten all the way rinsed out.

She pulled them on anyway.

She got her brown dress on, tied her bootlaces, and then combed her hair and braided it quickly, hardly caring how it looked.

Before she went out of her room, she took a deep breath and told herself: _Today will be different._


	27. School

27\. School

After a quick breakfast, Anne wrapped her thick shawl around herself, grabbed her bookstrap and her lunch, and headed outside.

Where was Gilbert? She didn't see him. What if he had forgotten? What if he had changed his mind? What if he'd never really cared at all and decided he'd rather sleep in than come get her?

She walked across the fields, getting more nervous with every step that took her closer to the woods.

Once she was close to the woods, Gilbert stepped out, startling her.

"Oh!" She gasped.

"I'm sorry," Gilbert said in a rush.

"You…you surprised me. I thought you hadn't come and so I didn't expect…"

Gilbert said, "Well I couldn't wait around your house, could I? If the Cuthbert's saw me, wouldn't they disapprove of you walking to school with a boy?"

Anne nodded, breathing in deeply. "Well, I'm glad you came."

"I told you I would," Gilbert said, "You can count on me."

Once they arrived at school, Gilbert opened the door for her and they walked in together. Gilbert's arm was still holding the door for Anne when the girls all looked over and saw them. Diana, Josie, Ruby, Jane, and Tillie all stared at Anne and Gilbert.

Ruby's face crumpled. Diana and Tillie quickly put their arms around her.

"Gilbert!" The boys all shouted.

"You're back from Alberta!" They exclaimed, crowding around him.

"What was the District of Alberta like? Did you see the mountains? Were they big?" The boys began bombarding Gilbert with questions about his trip.

"They're kind of hard to miss. They're mountains," Gilbert said, pulling off his scarf.

"How's your father?"

Gilbert didn't answer immediately. "We're both glad to be back," he said finally, not really answering the question.

"Why did you walk in with that orphan?"

Gilbert looked surprised. He answered, "I don't care where she came from. A cute girl is a cute girl, right?"

The boys nodded. Gilbert was the leader of the pack.

Anne wasn't sure what she had done wrong, but all of her new "friends" were looking at her angrily. Ruby looked the most upset. Anne didn't know why. She tried to catch Ruby's eye, but Ruby wouldn't look at her. Anne could see Ruby's lower lip quivering as if she was trying not to cry.

Anne looked at Diana, confused, and mouthed _What's wrong with Ruby?_ Diana shook her head quickly, as if to say she couldn't talk about it.

Not knowing what was going on with the girls, Anne felt unsettled. Had she done something? She began arranging her school supplies on her desk.

She was glad to have walked in with Gilbert. Billy sat in the last row, so coming in with Gilbert meant she had him by her side as she walked past Billy's desk. She had to remember all day not to turn around, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

Mr. Phillips began the school day, and Anne was glad because it gave her something to focus on.

Once it was lunchtime, Anne took her basket and expected to eat with the girls, but the minute lunch time started, Josie let into her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Josie hissed.

"What?" Anne asked innocently.

"Walking in with Gilbert Blythe! You can't be seen with him," Josie snapped.

"…why?" Anne asked, confused.

"Ruby has dibs! She's liked him for three years! You can't just swoop in and steal him right from under her nose!"

Anne shook her head, "No, no…it's not like that. I wasn't looking at him like that. I swear. He just happened to walk in with me, that's all. We just got here at the same time."

Josie glared at her, and then stalked back to the group of girls huddled together comforting Ruby.

Anne looked at Diana, who had her arm around Ruby. Diana shook her head, looking like things had reached the point where she didn't know how to fix them.

Anne slowly walked away from the girls and sat down on a rock, alone.

She had barely had time to make friends with these girls and now everything was ruined.

She didn't know where Billy was but she figured he couldn't hurt her more than she was already hurting.

Keeping her head down, she lifted the cheesecloth off her lunch basket and took out her sandwich. It smelled delicious to her. It was a biscuit with leftover sausage from breakfast. Of course the sausage was cold, but that didn't make it taste any less wonderful to her. She nibbled at it slowly to make it last longer. She didn't care how long it took her to eat- it wasn't as if she had anyone to play with or talk to after lunch.

Gilbert had gotten his lunch basket, watched to see where Billy was going, and then went to find Anne.

He saw her sitting on a rock outside the school building and came up to her. "Hey," he said. He held up an apple. "Want another one of my apples? You liked them yesterday. You said they were really sweet. Remember?" He smiled at her.

Anne knew the girls were eating their lunches inside by the window. They were probably watching Gilbert approach her.

"Go away," Anne said lowly, not moving her lips.

"…what?" Gilbert asked, confused.

"You need to walk away, right now." Anne said forcefully, still not moving her lips or looking at him.

"I'm sorry…I don't understand…" Gilbert said, his face looking like a question mark.

Anne stood up suddenly, screaming at him. "I'm not supposed to talk to you!"

Gilbert stared at her as if he couldn't believe what she was saying. "Why not?"

Anne just stomped away and hid on the other side of the building to eat lunch by herself.

She finished her sandwich, but it didn't taste good to her anymore.


	28. Carrots

28\. Carrots

Her sandwich felt like a rock in her stomach.

She thought maybe she better not try to eat anything else. Nothing sounded good to her anymore. On the other hand, the afternoon would feel longer if she was hungry. So she looked in her basket to see what else Marilla had given her. She still had two deviled eggs- which she would usually be practically drooling over- and she had carrot and celery sticks. Well, maybe she could handle the celery. Celery was pretty bland. Maybe that wouldn't feel bad in her stomach. She ate it slowly, listening to the crunchy sound of it. She finished her celery sticks but gave up eating after that. The deviled eggs and the carrots weren't going to happen.

She decided to put her lunch basket in the cloak room before recess ended. That way she wouldn't run into Billy, because once recess ended and everyone clambered into the cloak room, she would just be able to walk past them all and go straight to her desk.

She slipped into the school and tried to be quiet so that Mr. Phillips, who was sitting at his desk grading papers, wouldn't hear her.

Before she could even step over to the shelves, the door opened quietly behind her. She turned around to see Billy looming over her. He had followed her in.

She dropped her lunch basket. It didn't make much noise because it landed on her shoes, but her carrots sticks rolled across the floor of the cloak room.

Billy, ignoring the food rolling across the floor, stepped closer to Anne and whispered, "Miss me?"

Anne tried to think quickly. She could hear Mr. Phillips clear his throat as he shuffled some papers.

Billy seemed to read her mind, knowing she might try to get Mr. Phillip's attention.

With a smile, he put his finger to his lips, "Shhh."

Before he could say or do anything, the door opened again, loudly this time, as Gilbert rushed in. He didn't understand why Anne had yelled at him earlier, but that didn't matter- he wasn't going to just watch as Billy followed her and do nothing to stop him.

Billy looked disappointed that someone had walked in, interrupting them. He shrugged it off and went past Gilbert back out the door.

Gilbert looked at Anne's face, white, startled.

"Did anything-"

Anne shook her head before he'd finished asking.

Gilbert looked down. He reached down to pick up her basket. Then he saw the carrots all over the floor.

"Oh, Anne, your carrots," he said.

He looked down at her lunch basket in his hands and saw that she also had deviled eggs wrapped up in her basket.

"Didn't you eat anything?" He asked.

"I ate my sandwich," she said.

"That's all?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't like carrots," she lied. The truth was, her stomach was in knots.

Gilbert smiled. "That's funny. I thought eating carrots was what made your hair turn red."

"That's cute," Anne said absently, trying to breathe normally. She felt her heart pounding in her ears and felt more afraid than she was willing to admit.

Gilbert smiled- but unfortunately, believing that Anne had liked his joke about carrots would get him into some trouble later.

The truth was, she had barely even heard him. If she had, she would have reacted quite differently to what he had said about carrots making her hair turn red.

Suddenly Mr. Phillips appeared. He seemed startled to see students in the cloak room. "What are you doing in already?" He didn't wait for an answer before saying, "Go on in, then, I need to ring the bell."

Gilbert looked at Anne's face.

Anne looked just as startled to see Mr. Phillips as she had been to see Billy.

Anne was so on edge that anyone could startle her now.

"Go on in," he said quietly. "I'll clean up the carrots."

Anne, again looking as if she barely registered what he had said- looking like any little noise or movement would make her jump out of her skin- nodded and walked into the school room alone.


	29. More Carrots

Ch 29 More Carrots

As class started, Gilbert kept his eyes on Anne. She seemed, for some reason, to have been shunned by the girls. Diana seemed to be the only girl not shooting daggers.

Anne was keeping her head down, but Gilbert felt sure she noticed how the other girls were treating her. What had happened?

It wasn't just the girls treatment of her, though. There was more to it than that.

Anne was more jittery this afternoon than he'd ever seen her.

Every time Diana's elbow moved, as she wrote on her slate, Anne's shoulders twitched. When the two girls in front of Anne giggled at something, Anne's head snapped up, startled. When Josie Pye dropped her slate pencil on the floor, Anne visibly jumped, making the other girls laugh.

Gilbert regretted that he hadn't had time to ask Anne what Billy had said or done. All he'd asked is " _Did anything_ -" and of course " _happen_ " would have been the next word. Anne had shaken her head before he'd finished the question. And then, stupidly, he'd let his attention be diverted to her spilled lunch, instead of asking her about what was more important- what Billy had tried to do.

Yes, Anne had shaken her head that nothing had happened. But what did that _mean_? Did that mean that Billy hadn't even had a chance to _say_ anything to her, to threaten her? Did it mean he hadn't touched her? Hadn't hit her? Gilbert didn't know.

Maybe Billy hadn't done anything at all. Maybe just turning around and _seeing_ him had triggered her nerves and caused this sudden bout of jitters. Clearly Anne had been shaken by the encounter, brief as it was.

When Gilbert saw Josie Pye lean back to whisper something to Tillie, and then laugh meanly, Gilbert decided he had had enough. He didn't know what the big joke was, but it was plain to see that Anne was the target. What could he do?

He decided to get out the apple he'd brought for her and set it on her desk. Due to class being in session, he couldn't talk to her and ask her what was going on, but he could at least remind her that she had a friend in him.

He got the apple out and waited for an opportunity. Once Mr. Phillip's back was turned, he sized up his ability to get away with it and then quickly moved to the girl's side of the room.

He set the apple on her desk.

He remembered how she had said his joke was "cute"- the one about how eating carrots was what had turned her hair red- and since she had thought it was cute, he thought that being called 'carrots' would make her smile. That would help, right? He reached out and touched her braid. "Carrots," he whispered with a gentle smile.

The second the word was out of his mouth, Anne stood up and suddenly and unexpectedly smacked her slate across his face, screaming, "Stop talking to me!"

A hush fell over the whole room. You could have heard a pin drop.

Anne stared wide-eyed at Gilbert, who was rubbing his jaw. She couldn't believe what she had just done. No one else could either: the entire room was staring at her as if she were some kind of monster.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Mr. Philips said, "Anne Shirley! Come up here."

Anne stared at Gilbert a second.

Gilbert was staring back at Anne with an expression she could not identify. It was mostly shock, but there was something else in his eyes mixed in with shock and the expression was unidentifiable to her.

She broke eye contact with Gilbert and gazed slowly around the room. Every eye was on her. Every face looked shocked.

"Anne Shirley! I will not ask you again!" Mr. Philips barked at her.

Anne stepped out of her aisle. But instead of walking to the front of the room, she slowly and deliberately walked, head held high, out of the schoolhouse. Mr. Phillips watched her walk out as if he couldn't believe she was defying him.

Anne stepped out into the cold air. She had not stopped to get her shawl, hat, or lunch. She didn't even think of them as she walked out into the school yard.

Once outside, she realized she had been holding her breath and let it out, beginning to breathe heavily.

She didn't want to go back into that building. Afraid Mr. Philips would follow her out, she took off running into the woods.

She kept running. She knew she was alone in the woods, quite sure Billy would still be in the classroom so she kept running until she felt free.

She ran straight to her little house in the woods, climbed in, sat down and cried.

Only one thought repeated itself over and over in her mind: _What have I done?_


	30. Uncertainty

30\. Uncertainty

Gilbert didn't know what to do.

He went back to his seat, still rubbing his jaw, feeling very confused.

He sat down slowly. Billy tapped him on the shoulder.

Gilbert turned around and looked at him.

Billy made the 'crazy' sign with his hand by his ear, and laughed.

Gilbert stared at Billy a second, then turned back around, not responding to Billy in any way.

He wanted to go after Anne, but he didn't. He turned back to his geometry book and started working again, though for most of the afternoon he was just pretending to concentrate.


	31. Off

As school let out, Gilbert grabbed his things, and Anne's too, and set off.

The girls noticed he took Anne's things. That only meant one thing. He was planning to go visit Anne.

They stared at him walking briskly away, with Anne's shawl over his arm, her hat under his arm, and her bookstrap and lunch basket clutched tightly to his chest.

"He's taking Anne's things," Tillie said, her mouth open. "Do you think he's going to her house?"

Ruby bit back her tears. "Of course he is," she said bitterly. "He's going to see her. I know he is. Why else would he take her things?"

"Maybe he isn't," Diana said, trying to reassure Ruby. "Maybe he's just being nice to drop them off. He's probably just going to leave them at her doorstep."

"Yeah," Jane said to Ruby. "He _can't_ like her. Not after what she did to him today!"

"No." Ruby stated, wiping her eyes. "It doesn't matter what she does. He likes her. She can smack him in the face and he's still sweet on her."

Josie narrowed her eyes. Anne was trouble. How dare she interfere with Ruby's potential beau?

Something had to be done about this.


	32. Confrontation

32\. Confrontation

Billy will refer to a book Anne reads that is in the real t.v. show- in the scene in the show when Anne is getting ready for her first day of school, the book is shown briefly.

Gilbert didn't overhear anything the girls had said, because he left school quickly and was too focused on finding Anne.

He thought at first that she had gone home, as it was really too chilly out for her to be in her hideaway.

But then after thinking more about it, he felt fairly sure that she had _not_ gone home, because yesterday she'd been so worried about what Miss Cuthbert would say if she'd returned home before school was out.

Upon that realization, he felt terrible for not leaving school with her. Had she been outside in the cold these past few hours, without her shawl? He wasn't sure how he could possibly have just gotten up and left school to go after her, but perhaps he should have. He wondered what Mr. Phillips would have done- or what the other students would have done- had he done just that.

Now he decided she was most likely in her hideaway, and he wanted to make sure he found her before Billy might potentially come across her in the woods.

But Billy wasn't looking for Anne, he was looking for Gilbert.

"Hey bud," Billy said, catching up to him.

Gilbert turned, looking warily at him. Then he looked away and kept walking.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you taking that dirty orphan's things with you?"

Gilbert ignored him.

"I can't believe you're touching her stuff. Aren't you afraid you'll catch something?" Billy laughed.

Gilbert stopped walking and looked at him hard. "Weren't _you_?"

"Weren't I what?" Billy asked, looking confused.

"Weren't _you_ afraid you'd catch something?" Gilbert said, throwing Billy's words back at him.

Billy made a face. "What are you talking about, bud?"

Gilbert tried to stop his building anger. "I'm not your bud," he said.

Billy smirked. "Yeah, right."

Gilbert walked on.

Billy took a couple long steps to be at his side again. "Well let's have a little fun with her stuff before you take it to her. Nothing she'll notice right away. Like we could pull out some of the pages in her books." He turned his head to the side to read the title of the book on the outside of Anne's bookstrap. "Elsie's New Relations by Martha Finley," he read in a mocking tone. "My sister reads those stupid Elsie Dinsmore books too. Books written for girls have to be so dumbed down. Hey, I have an idea. Let's write some dirty words on the pages."

Gilbert kept walking.

"Nah," Billy said, thinking. "That's not enough. Maybe a little manure in her hat. That would be a scream."

Gilbert finally stopped walking and turned to him. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Billy looked surprised by the question. "What are you talking about?"

Gilbert said icily, "I'm talking about you and Anne."

Billy looked like he couldn't believe Gilbert. "What's wrong with _you_? Why are you defending that trash? Especially after what she did to you today!"

Gilbert said, a little too loudly and with an exasperated laugh, "I don't know, _Billy_ , maybe she just acted that way because she's a little stressed out right now?! Maybe she's got a lot going on?! Maybe being at school is hard for her now and today it finally just boiled over and she _snapped_?!"

Billy laughed a little bit, sounding nervous. Gilbert's eyes were hard as stone.

Billy finally said, "What are you playing at?"

Gilbert stepped closer to him and said in an intimidating tone, "I know what you did."

Billy looked around quickly, worried someone was around.

Gilbert noticed his expression.

But then Billy put on a smooth smile and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gilbert shoved him in the chest. "Don't play games with me. I'm not in the mood. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from her. From now on. Understand?"

Billy stepped forward, looking threatening now, and shoved Gilbert back.

"I don't know what that filthy orphan told you," he said, "But she's a lying bitch."

That did it.

Gilbert dropped everything he carried and decked him.

Billy fell to the ground, more surprised than hurt. He felt his lip bleeding.

He scrambled up and tried to hit Gilbert back, but Gilbert swerved in time and so Billy missed.

Gilbert grabbed Billy by the collar and yanked him close. "You listen to me. If you ever- _ever_ say _one word_ to her- if you even _look_ in her direction, I'm going to make sure you regret it."

Billy yanked himself away from Gilbert. "Oh yeah?" he asked, "What are you gonna do? Huh?"

Gilbert said, "I'm gonna rat you out,"

Billy smirked. "That's it? You're gonna rat me out? Ooh, I'm scared," Billy stopped smirking and looked serious, saying, "Who do you think people are going to believe? Me, or that crazy unhinged orphan?"

Gilbert said evenly, "They don't have to believe her. They'll believe me. Everyone will know what kind of person you really are."

"Oh yeah?" Billy said, challenging him. "Well maybe I need to deal with her before that happens. Maybe she needs somebody to knock her down a peg. She's getting full of herself. If she told her lies to you, who knows what other lies she's spreading around?" Billy looked smug.

"They're not lies and you know it." Gilbert said evenly. He tried to calm down a bit, because he seriously thought he could kill Billy right then and there. He took a couple deep breaths.

Billy laughed. "Who cares if they're lies or not? No one cares what happens to her. The Cuthberts don't. They don't even like her. They just needed free help. She's not their daughter, she's just a glorified housekeeper. She shouldn't even be at school with us in the first place. We're better than her."

"Trust me, Billy." Gilbert said. "There are very few people you're better than."

"Well, you tell your filthy orphan girlfriend to keep her mouth shut. Who else has she told?"

"She hasn't told anyone. And she doesn't want to."

"She told you." Billy countered.

"She didn't, actually. I figured it out." Gilbert said. "I didn't want to believe you could do something so stupid- no, that's not the right word for it- that you could do something so…so _evil_ \- but the evidence was all right there in front of me."

The color drained from Billy's face. "What do you mean, evidence?"

By evidence, Gilbert had actually meant Anne's emotional behavior. But then he remembered her wrist.

"She's injured, Billy."

"Yeah," Billy said, "And she was injured yesterday too. What did she tell people about her wrist when she went home?" He looked smug.

He had a point.

Anne's arm was wrapped up when she went home, and of course she would have had to explain to the Cuthberts, and of course she would have given them a fake story.

According to anyone who asked Anne, her wrist injury had nothing to do with Billy.

But then he realized that Anne's clothing also showed she'd been attacked. That was evidence too. Billy probably hadn't realized her clothing could be used against him as proof he'd attacked her.

"You ripped up her clothes. Did you know that?"

Billy exhaled, looking relieved. "That's all you got? It would be easy enough to tear up your own clothes if you really wanted to make it look like you'd been attacked by someone. Who's going to believe her? She's already established herself as a liar: if she changes her story about what happened to her wrist, then why would anyone believe whatever else she says?"

 _Blood._ The cold, awful word imprinted itself in Gilbert's mind. That was the answer.

"There's more," Gilbert said. "There's other evidence, and she didn't do it to herself, and no one is going to doubt her when they see it."

He stared at Billy, who was actually beginning to look uncomfortable. "What? What do you mean? What evidence?"

Gilbert looked at him, enjoying for a moment how scared Billy looked. "Her clothes aren't just torn, Billy. They're bloody, too. How are you going to talk your way out of that one? Huh?"

"Why would…" Billy trailed off. "That's not evidence. It doesn't mean _I_ did anything…"

"Yes it does, you pig. She bled because of you." Gilbert hissed.

Gilbert got close to him again- close enough for Billy to feel his breath on his face- and said with more anger than he'd ever felt in his life: "Her clothes are torn. Her stockings have rips in them in a place no one should have been. You tore her underwear, and you left her bloody. You. Left. Her. _Bloody_."

He shoved Billy in the chest. "You did what you did, and then you ran away and left her in a mess. Torn clothes and blood, Billy. _That's_ what you left her with. And even if you can get people to believe she ripped her own clothes to try to accuse you, there's still _blood_." The last word was spit out.

Billy was staring at him, caught off guard.

Gilbert looked at Billy's startled expression, realizing he had struck a nerve with Billy. It was time to play this up. Keep going. "You didn't know that, did you? You didn't know there'd be blood? Well, now you do."

Billy actually looked scared now.

Gilbert had no idea if there were actually any after effects of a girl going through that kind of attack- but the _important_ thing here was that _Billy_ didn't know, either.

And the best part was, Billy wouldn't even be able to ask anyone if what Gilbert said was true, because in order to ask someone if it was true, he'd have to explain _why_ he was asking.

So Gilbert decided to use this against him. He put on a concerned expression. "Wait, seriously- you mean you really didn't _know_? Honestly? Geez, one look at her and the doctor's gonna know everything."

"But how…" Billy faltered.

"That sort of thing is obvious. I can't believe you didn't know that if you did something like that to a girl, there'd be evidence."

"What are you saying? She's…like…like, mutilated now or something?" Billy said, feeling the full effect of the fear Gilbert was trying to instill in him.

"Well, _I_ haven't looked, obviously. But you better be nice to her, because she doesn't have to cover for you, you know. And if you say or do anything to upset her, what reason will she have to not get you into trouble?"

Billy looked around nervously. "Uh…I'm gonna go. I…gotta go home. Farm work."

Gilbert nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, you run on home now," he said in a condescending way.

Gilbert shook his head, picked up his and Anne's things, and then began to walk on.

Billy was silent a moment, then he called out after him, into the cold, his voice carried away on the brisk wind. "You act like you're on some moral high ground, Gilbert. What about loyalty, huh? You just met that girl. We've been friends for forever."

Gilbert didn't stop or even turn around. He just called over his shoulder, "You and I haven't been friends for quite some time, Billy. I just didn't know it until now."


	33. Question

(This chapter was like really, really awkward to me, but I was trying to think of what a boy growing up on a farm over a century ago would know about 'the birds and the bees' as they say…)

Gilbert continued on his way.

He would not tell Anne what he had lied about to Billy.

But he felt pretty sure that Billy would leave her alone.

After all, now Billy had to worry that she could, at any time, out him, and there'd be no way to deny what had happened to her.

Gilbert smiled. Anne had leverage now.

It was leverage built on fake information he'd made up in his head, but leverage nonetheless.

Gilbert had to admit to himself that he didn't know anything about girls, really, and hadn't even wondered about them. He supposed he would be more interested in girls by this point, but he wasn't because…well, the girls at school were just so… _silly_. He hated the way most of the girls swooned over him. That Ruby Gillis was the worst. But Gilbert had resolved to be kind to her anyway- what was the point in making her feel bad?- but to not give her too much attention so as not to lead her on.

Besides, school was for… _school_. He sometimes felt annoyed with the other boys for laughing behind the teacher's back and just barely scraping by on their grades. Didn't they want to make something of themselves? There was nothing wrong with deciding to be a farmer because it was what you wanted, he thought, but there was something wrong with ending up simply doing whatever was convenient because you hadn't cared enough to plan ahead.

But even though he didn't know about girls, he had a basic understanding of how reproduction happened. You couldn't grow up on a farm without, at some point, witnessing animals mating with each other. He didn't know if it worked exactly the same way when it came to _humans_ , but he figured it couldn't be too far off.

He worried now, though, that it might be _too_ much like the animals do. After all, mutual want did not seem to be part of the animals' mating routine. The male animals dominated the females, sometimes even fighting each other over who got the female animal, with the stronger male winning the battle.

And he'd heard some pretty terrible noises. He couldn't forget seeing a barn tomcat biting a female cat in heat on the back of her neck. He was only five or six years old and had no idea what they were doing. When the female began making hair-raising screaming noises, he ran to his father, telling him to come help him because the cats were fighting terribly. His father laughed and explained to him that, yes, it hurt, but they weren't fighting- that was how they made kittens. Gilbert, initially somewhat scarred by it, had quickly learned it was just the cat's mating ritual, another strange wonder of the animal kingdom.

But when _people_ did this…? Was it like the animals? What Anne had explained about Mr. Hammond- and what she had heard from Mrs. Hammond- well, it did seem a _lot_ like the animals he'd witnessed. …Did it _have_ to be that way? Was that just how it _was_? He couldn't imagine taking part in it himself, someday, if that was the case. _No_ , he resolved. _When I get married, whenever that is, whoever it is, it won't be like that at all…I won't let it be like that._


	34. Love

Anne had finished crying a couple of hours ago and now just sat in the corner of her little house, hugging her knees, trying to keep warm. It was bitterly cold outside, and she regretted not bringing her things with her when she left.

Should she go back and get her things? School was likely over by now, but what if Mr. Philips was still there? She wasn't sure how long the teacher stayed after he let school out. And what if Billy was still hanging around? What if he was in the woods this very minute?

No, she better stay where she was. It seemed too risky to walk alone in the woods, and even riskier to head back to the schoolhouse.

After all, she was truly alone now.

She felt terrible about hitting Gilbert, the one person she could trust, the one person she felt safe with.

She regretted not being able to control her emotions in school.

How awful for him, she thought, to have done so much to help someone, only to get smacked in the face with a slate in return.

And, she thought with despair, _I have no one, now. There's no one to protect me. I'm on my own._

Anne felt she could not go back to school, but what would Marilla say about her coming home without her belongings? If it was just a book or two, she could pretend to have left them at school. Marilla would sigh and call her careless, but that wouldn't hurt her. But how could she pretend to have forgotten her books _and_ her lunch basket _and_ her hat _and_ her shawl? There was simply no way she could have forgotten her shawl, especially, with it being so cold outside.

And, goodness, what would Marilla say when she found out she'd have to buy Anne a new slate?

Anne hugged her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"Anne?" came a soft voice.

Anne's eyes snapped open.

Gilbert was leaning into the doorway of her makeshift hideaway.

Anne stared at him.

She had not thought she would see him again.

Her first thought, unfortunately, was that he had come to hurt her. He had been so kind, so gentle, before- but now, after what she'd done…well, Billy had hurt her in revenge. Perhaps Gilbert would too. Perhaps that's what _all_ men did when they were angry. Mr. Hammond seemed angry an awful lot of the time, and now Anne knew what poor Mrs. Hammond had to go through.

She stared at him, not speaking.

Gilbert looked at her with an odd expression. He stood up and glanced around, thinking perhaps Billy had followed him; that Anne had spotted Billy coming up behind him.

But he didn't see anyone. He looked back at Anne. Billy _wasn't_ behind him. But Anne was still looking at him with fear in her eyes.

"Anne, what's wrong?" Gilbert asked, concerned, stepping inside the little house and sitting down next to her. "Why do you look so scared? Did something happen?"

Anne just stared at him. "What- what are you doing here?"

Gilbert searched her face, looking confused. "I…came to bring you your things. And to see how you were."

She now noticed that Gilbert was indeed holding her belongings. "Oh," she said. She took a shaky breath.

"Look," he said, showing her her hat and her bookstrap. "I brought all your things, your books, and…and there's math homework, and if it's something you haven't learned yet then I'm gonna help you with it, okay?"

Anne didn't answer. She looked around at her belongings as if she were just trying to register what had just happened.

Gilbert just stared at her for a long moment.

Then it finally hit him. He made sense of her reaction. "Anne, you didn't think I was l was looking to _hurt_ you, did you?"

"I thought-" Anne wiped her eyes, "I thought that you- I thought you were angry, and…"

"Anne…oh, no…no, I would never-" Gilbert moved so he was sitting in front of her. "Anne, I could never do anything like that. I could never hurt you."

"I didn't _want_ to think badly of you, honestly- you've been _so_ nice to me…" Anne choked on her tears. "But…but…everything seems so mixed up now! I've been used to people not always being very nice, but now it's _different_ somehow, it's like…it's like...if someone gets angry with me I just don't know _what_ to expect, especially because…I mean, you're a _boy_ , after all, and I know you aren't like Billy, but…but you're a _boy_ , and…and..."

Gilbert reached out and held her shaking arms. "It's okay. It's okay," he said, looking at her, concern showing in his eyes. "I understand. I'm not angry with you. I'm not."

He just stared at her for a moment, watching her crying- wanting to fix it, but not knowing how to.

He finally remembered she'd been sitting there for a couple hours in the cold without her shawl. He leaned over and pulled her shawl around her. "Anne, you're freezing, here, let's get you warmed up…it'll be okay…"

He quickly took off his own coat and pulled that around her too.

Anne was crying but looked up at him when he pulled his own coat around her. "Don't," she said. "You'll be cold…"

"I'll be okay," Gilbert said under his breath, pulling the coat more tightly around her, and then taking her cold hands into his own to try to warm them.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Anne asked, still crying even as Gilbert held her cold hands.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Gilbert asked.

Anne stopped crying and looked at him, bewildered. "I hit you in the face with my slate."

Gilbert smiled. "Yeah, and Anne, don't keep your slate tucked away in your bookstrap anymore. If you carry that slate around with you I don't think you'll have to worry about protecting yourself. You pack quite the punch with that thing."

Anne blushed. "I hope you're not going to end up awfully bruised."

Gilbert shrugged. "I doubt it. I think it would have started already, if I was going to. I'll be okay."

"Well, I'm sorry. Really I am," Anne told him. "And I'll sure be sorry when I have to tell Marilla. She won't be happy that I'll need a new slate," Anne sighed.

"Well…I hate to tell you this, but you're going to need new chalk for your slate, too. I…dropped your things. By accident." Gilbert said, not letting her in on the fact that he had had an encounter with Billy and had dropped her things for the sole purpose of giving Billy a split lip. "It was when I was walking here. I didn't notice the chalk fell out until I had walked on a ways. I went back to look for it, but I couldn't find it. I'm sorry," he said. "You can use mine, though."

"Thank you," Anne said, pulling her hands away from his, now, so that she could push her hair behind her ears. Then she put her hands inside her shawl. "I wish it were Friday. At least then I'd have the weekend. I can't imagine how I can walk into school tomorrow morning. Not after what I did today." She shook her head. "Mr. Philips must have been furious."

Gilbert took a breath. "Well, I won't lie to you. He was angry. I'd expect a note home from him, or having to write lines or stay in at recess or something. But he doesn't strike girls so you're at least safe from that."

"I don't think teachers ought to hit their students," Anne said, having remembered a time when she was young- one of the few times she remembered being in school- and had a teacher's ruler smacked across her hand because the whole class was reading a story aloud and Anne wasn't on the right page. She had tried to explain to the teacher that she wasn't on the right page because she had been so enthralled with the story that she couldn't help reading ahead and had gotten several pages ahead of the class. The teacher had told her, "I told everyone to turn to page 41, so you should have been on page 41 as you were told. And if I have to tell you one more time not to talk back to me, you'll be struck again. Hold your tongue and stay on the same page as the others!" …And it _was_ page 41; Anne remembered this incident so vividly that she would never forget what exact page they had been on.

Gilbert brought her out of her memory by saying, "Well, maybe someday you'll be a teacher, and you can do things differently. Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher?" Gilbert asked.

Anne cocked her head, thinking. "I would like that," she said slowly. "I think I really would. That, or an author. I'd give anything to have nothing to do but think up stories every day."

"I'm glad you can keep the future in mind." Gilbert said. "You're going through some stuff right now, and I know it can get…it can get bad. I think it's good if you always try to have something to look forward to. Something to keep you going if you start to feel like things are just getting too hard."

"I don't know what I'd do without an imagination," Anne commented softly. "I always try to think of things as being better than they are. Or that someday something wonderful will happen. I don't know what people do if they can't. It's all just pictures in my mind: cold, bare branches come alive with cherry blossoms even in the dark of winter…the sun on a pane of glass is a doorway to a fairy land…I squint my eyes and spiderwebs become Chantilly lace."

Gilbert gazed at her, smiling. She never ceased to amaze him.

"You open your mouth and magic comes out," he said before he even realized he'd said it out loud.

Anne looked at him, startled. "That sounds just like a line of poetry," she said.

"Well, I'm not much for poetry, but I know a beautiful thing when I see it." He looked down, then, as if he'd said too much.


	35. Just Kids

He looked down, then, as if he'd said too much.

He was used to being sure of himself, smooth, confident. Why did this girl make him feel as if he was constantly tripping over his own two feet?

There was an awkward silence.

Anne cleared her throat. "Thanks for bringing me my books and shawl and everything," she said, moving the conversation quickly away from "beautiful things" because she felt a sudden flush creeping into her cheeks that she couldn't explain.

"Yeah," Gilbert said quickly, looking up again. "Yeah, no problem. So uh, the math homework…"

"Oh. Right. Right. The math homework," Anne remembered.

She pulled out her book and opened it.

"It's chapter 4," Gilbert said. "The last set of problems. Do you think you can do it?"

"Yes, of course," Anne said before she'd even looked.

"It's just that you said you hadn't been in school to learn long division, and…"

Anne quickly scanned the problems and found that they were mostly fractions and decimals.

"No, this I can do," she said, feeling reassured.

"Okay, well…that's good." Gilbert said lamely. "'Cause if you need help…"

"No," Anne said. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Thank you, though. I really appreciate it."

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. You ready to go home, then?"

She pulled Gilbert's coat off and gave it back to him. "Thanks. Um. Sorry. I shouldn't have let you give me your coat. You must be freezing."

"No, I'm okay," Gilbert said.

Anne stood up, shaking some dry leaves from her dress and gathered up her things.

Gilbert waited while she went through the door of the little house and then followed her out. They walked in silence most of the way out of the woods.

As they came out of the woods and onto the edge of the meadow, they stopped, facing each other, tasked with the job of saying goodbye for now, when for some reason it felt like they could barely speak to each other.

"So…here, tomorrow?" Gilbert asked, tilting his head toward the treeline.

"Thank you," Anne said.

They looked at each other a moment, held together by an invisible string.

Then, at the same time, they broke eye contact, as if it had gotten too awkward to look at each other's eyes anymore.

"Okay…um, bye," Anne said, a flush creeping into her cheeks again, for no reason she could explain. She walked on, then, so he wouldn't see it.

"…bye." Gilbert echoed, a bit too late. She was already on her way and didn't hear him.


	36. New Worry

Author's Note:

I don't remember if the show has a character already who's a doctor, because I can't remember, so I just made up a doctor. If I find out there is already one on the show then I'm going to edit this chapter to have the real doctor in it.

The main reason for this author's note is to say that….in the next couple of chapters….Anne worries about whether or not she could have a baby due to what happened….and I want to say right away that NO, I'm NOT having her be pregnant. I didn't get pregnant, so she won't either.

But, since I had never told anybody this happened to me…like, literally telling YOU this story is the first time I have told ANYONE what happened to me…so I went for several weeks worrying by myself about possible pregnancy, and that is scary..so that's what Anne is going through, too.

But in Anne's case, she'd worrying for no reason, really, because the scene with Billy in the woods was like literally right before she got her period, so she was "lucky" that she just narrowly missed having pregnancy as a possibility….but, remember that Anne does not even know about periods yet at this point, so she wouldn't know they were necessary to get pregnant.

Gilbert won't know anything either. Growing up on a farm, the kids would understand reproduction and childbirth because they'd see animals doing those things. But animals don't have periods and anyway just seeing animals doesn't mean they understand how things work with humans. There's no internet and no sex ed class in school, so kids were more in the dark about these things.

Now the chapter:

When Anne came into the house, she closed the door behind her and slipped out of her shawl, hung it on the coat rack near the door, and went into the kitchen.

She was surprised to see Marilla sitting at the table with a man.

"Oh, Anne, you're home. Good. I told Dr. Carter that you'd be along any minute now, and he was kind enough to wait."

Anne stared like a deer in the headlights. "What is he doing here?"

"Anne," Marilla reacted, looking embarrassed. "What a way to speak! Come in here and say hello properly."

Anne didn't move. "I told you my arm was fine."

Marilla was embarrassed by Anne's impoliteness. "Well, let's let the doctor be the judge of that," she said, a bit less kindly.

Anne shook herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I…I just didn't remember that he was coming over, and…"

Marilla looked at her oddly. "Well, he wasn't. Don't you remember? I told you this morning, before you left, that I'd take you into town once you were home from school? Well, Dr. Carter stopped by to ask if he might have a jar of my apricot preserves to take to his mother when he visits her next week. Wasn't that perfect timing? Now we won't need to go into town after all."

Anne swallowed hard. "Oh. Right. Yes."

Anne walked up to the doctor and said, "Hello," smiling a bit, to try to cover up what Marilla perceived to be rudeness.

The stranger, a kindly looking older gentleman, smiled at her and said, "Hello, young lady. Miss Cuthbert was telling me you took a bit of a tumble the other day and hurt your wrist."

Anne nodded, unwrapping the scarf and holding out her arm.

"Out on the playground, I take it?" He said, turning her wrist over and pressing it in a few places.

Anne nodded.

The doctor smiled. "Well, it's not broken, although I'm sure you know that by now."

"I hope you don't think I'm neglectful for not bringing her to you as soon as it happened," Marilla began. "But Rachel Lynde told me that when she went into town she'd spoken to Abigail, and Abigail told her that you'd been at the Perkins house all night, and…well, since Anne's arm wasn't an emergency- not really, anyway- I hated to come yesterday- I'm sure you could have used a day's rest after being up all night with Emily."

The doctor smiled, "Rachel Lynde, hmm? Yes, I expect she would know. I'm surprised she didn't know Emily's baby was coming before Emily did!"

Marilla and the doctor smiled a knowing smile- Rachel Lynde could always be counted on to know everybody's business.

The doctor continued, "But no, don't worry- It's just a sprain. You did well keeping it wrapped up tightly. I'm afraid there's not much else to be done for it, just keep it wrapped up. And you, young lady, will be back out on the playground running around soon enough!"

Then he winked at Anne as he said- loudly, teasingly- "But as for doing any chores, Miss Cuthbert, I'm afraid it would be entirely unsafe for her to do even the slightest bit of work. Entirely. She mustn't lift a finger. Only amusement, I'm afraid."

Marilla smiled at Anne, "Well, see, Anne? I've a second opinion on you leaving the laundry to me, now, don't I?"

Then Marilla turned to the doctor and asked, "How is she doing? Emily, I mean?"

The doctor smiled. "She had a tough time of it, but she's doing well now."

Anne was only half-listening, not knowing who Abigail was or what she had to do with somebody named Emily Perkins and a baby.

"That's a relief. She's so slight, I worried about her delivering a baby," Marilla admitted.

"She's always been a delicate creature, hasn't she, and her baby is tiny too- but not frail, so that's a start."

Anne was definitely listening now. "Who are you talking about?"

The doctor and Marilla looked over at her, as if they'd forgotten she was even in the room.

Anne spoke up, "Rachel Lynde…saw Abigail? She had a baby…?"

The doctor said, "No, Emily Perkins had a baby last night. It's their first baby, Emily and her husband Arnold. Maybe you haven't met them yet? It's a little girl. Clara, they're going to call her," he said. "Abigail is Emily's mother-in-law."

Anne sat, staring at them with huge eyes. "A baby…"

"Goodness, child, whatever is the matter?" Marilla asked her.

"Nothing," Anne whispered. "Nothing."


	37. Dinner Conversation

After the doctor left, Anne laid the table for dinner. She tried to help Marilla in the kitchen, but was shooed away on account of her arm.

When Matthew came in, they all sat down to a steaming dinner of roast beef and gravy, carrots, and quartered potatoes.

Unlike yesterday, Anne seemed chipper. After the doctor's visit, she was full of nervous energy, which made her jittery and talkative.

In fact, she couldn't stop talking.

"I had no _idea_ how _fascinating_ birds were, Matthew, until I read your book! Of course birds are perfectly lovely creatures- I always knew that- but I had no idea how complicated and full their lives were. If you can look past the fact that they eat grubs and worms-"

"Anne," Marilla cut in. "We are eating dinner."

"Oh, sorry," Anne bumbled on. "I wonder if birds would think _our_ food was unmentionable? I suppose they wouldn't, would they? If you eat worms then I suppose there isn't really much that would hinder your appetite, I-"

Marilla cut her off. "Anne, if you say the word ' _worm'_ one more time, I'll ask you to leave the table."

"Marilla, I wasn't thinking _at all_ , forgive me," Anne said passionately.

Then she jumped into her next thought, "You know who I feel sorry for? Pigeons."

Matthew laughed at this unexpected declaration.

"Well, I _do_ ," Anne said. "Imagine _being_ a pigeon. Imagine everywhere you go, people say, 'oh, _ew_ , a pigeon'. Nobody wants pigeons around, do they? But they're not so very different from any other bird. They're even pretty, if you choose to see it. Some of them are, anyway. Don't you think so?"

"I can't say I've ever found pigeons to be attractive," Marilla answered. "And I am quite relieved for them to be a city bird."

"I'm glad _I_ don't live in the city. I suppose if you live in the city and see pigeons everywhere then you stop seeing them. I mean really _seeing_ them. Seeing their own unique beauty. They become a pest, a nuisance. But if you don't live in the city, then you don't-"

"I don't live in the city and I still don't see any beauty in them," Marilla interrupted. "Whenever I've gone to the city they're just everywhere, clustered around your feet, trying to grab crumbs from your grocery basket, leaving their waste upon every surface. I wish the city could do something about them." Marilla shook her head at the inconvenience.

"Well, pigeons aren't for everybody, I guess," Anne finally relented.

Matthew laughed again.

"But, oh! The book made me so happy to live in a world where there are birds. They were the very first musicians, don't you agree?"

Matthew smiled at her across the table, admiring her determination to be positive.

Matthew never said much, but to Anne, his smile meant more than all the words in the world.

Anne went on, "I always feel my heart lifted up in song when I hear one making its gorgeous melodies in the springtime- it's really what makes spring feel like _spring,_ isn't it?"

Marilla finally nodded. "I'll give you that. I do love to hear the birds chirping and know that spring is finally on its way."

"And no tree is ever more _picturesque_ than when it has birds all nestled among its branches…don't you just adore the word 'nestled'? It has such a warm, cozy sound to it. I often wonder what it feels like to be a bird and sleep in the trees, among the blossoms, all fragrant! And imagine flying. I'd give _anything t_ o be able to soar through the air, free and unencumbered." She sighed. "Birds don't even know how lucky they are."

"Anne, your food is going to get cold if you don't stop your chattering and eat."


	38. Company in the Dark

That night, Anne lay in her bed tossing and turning.

She could not sleep, no matter what she did.

She counted to 100 then counted backward again to 1.

She mentally went through her multiplication tables, all the way up to 12.

She tried- with partial success- to do long division in her head.

She listed all the facts she could remember about the birds from Matthew's book.

She tried to come up with solutions to keeping Charlottetown clean without getting rid of the pigeons.

She wrote a little play in her head about a fairy queen who floated down the streams on a lily pad and drank from an acorn top, and had adventures with the mice and frogs she met on her way- and then promptly decided not to try to write stories in her head tonight because it only frustrated her that she couldn't write them down.

She turned her imagination off and resolutely recited the ten commandments and then every prayer she'd learned at Sunday School.

She whispered a little song to herself in the dark.

Finally she sat up and pulled Elsie's New Relation by Martha Finley from her bedside table.

She hugged the book to her chest, wishing the moon were bright enough to read by, but it wasn't.

After a few minutes, she pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed. She quietly crept across her bedroom floor, avoiding the squeaky places, and left her room.

She went slowly and carefully down the stairs and to the sideboard where she knew Marilla had a box of new candles.

She took the whole box upstairs with her.

She lit her lamp and huddled close beside it, opening Elsie's New Relation.

"I need you to help me, Elsie", she whispered.

She began to read.


	39. Sleepless Night

Sometime after midnight, Anne reached the final page, regretfully said her last goodbyes to Elsie, and shut the book.

She sat in the dark for a few moments, her troubled face shadowy in the flickering candlelight.

What else could she do?

She didn't feel any closer to sleep than she had before.

She _was_ tired- it wasn't a matter of not being tired. She was tired enough at this very moment to sleep for a hundred years like Briar Rose.

She began twisting her hair around her fingers. She had been with the Hammonds during the births of two of Mrs. Hammond's children. She hadn't actually seen anything herself, she'd been expected to keep the other children occupied in another room while the doctor was with Mrs. Hammond.

But she'd heard plenty.

She hated the thoughts that were coming into her mind. She needed distraction, and quickly.

Breaking her promise to Marilla, she went down and took some of Marilla and Matthew's books out of the cupboard and brought them upstairs to her room.

 _Tales of Christian Endurance_ , she thought. _That's the one I'll read. It sounds as dull and unimaginative as it could possibly sound…it just might get me to sleep._

She opened it, took a deep breath, and began reading.

 _Besides, maybe some endurance would be good right now._


	40. Darkness

I hate this chapter, I don't want to be in Billy's head. Sorry.

* * *

Anne wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep that night.

Across Avonlea, Billy Andrews was lying awake in his bed.

He couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with Gilbert.

Who did Blythe think he was?

It made Billy angry.

First of all, he didn't think anyone would find out about what he had done.

He had no thought of that girl telling anyone. She was brassy and argumentative, but he felt sure he'd sufficiently scared the fight out of her.

But Blythe had said she hadn't actually _told_ him; that he'd just figured it out on his own.

Was that true?

If Blythe had figured it out on his own, would other people figure it out, too?

And if Blythe was lying- if he hadn't figured it out on his own- if that ugly dog had actually opened her dirty mouth and _told_ him- then what could he do to make sure she didn't tell anyone else?

 _Scare her again_ , he thought.

Maybe not the same way…it had been fun- he'd never done anything like that before and he liked the feeling of power it gave him- but it was just too risky. It had definitely served its purpose, but it couldn't be repeated. He'd have to think of something else.

And it was important that he _did_ think of something else. It was important to make sure she wouldn't use her…evidence, whatever it was.

He hadn't actually meant to tear her clothes, it had just happened. But, like he told Gilbert, it would be easy enough to tear your own clothes if you really wanted to make it look as if you'd been attacked. So that part didn't worry him.

But there was still the blood. The blood made him nervous. And whatever else had happened to her that Gilbert said was obvious. He hadn't thought about things like that when he'd planned this…the truth was, he didn't know enough _about_ what he was doing. His planning only involved the timing of the attack and how to accomplish it… He didn't understand what could happen to Anne afterward.

But, he reminded himself, the key here was to make her too scared to do anything about it.

He smiled at this thought:

 _It won't matter how much evidence she has, if she's too scared to show it to anybody._

But the real thing now, he thought, wasn't even about getting _her._ His _real_ annoyance, the reason for his lying awake at _night now_ \- was Gilbert's threat.

Blythe had shoved him, punched him, told him not to bother Anne, or he'd make trouble for him.

He didn't want to let himself be threatened by anyone, least of all Gilbert, Mr. Perfect.

He decided not to let Blythe push him around _. I'll make my own decisions_ , he decided. _If Fido makes trouble, I'll deal with her myself._

 _I'm not taking threats from Gilbert Blythe._

And with that thought, he turned over in his bed and closed his eyes. Soon he was sleeping peacefully, not a care in the world.


	41. Broken Trust

When Anne didn't come down to breakfast, Marilla finally went upstairs to see what was taking her so long.

She gasped. Anne hadn't even gotten out of bed yet!

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Spread out around Anne, from her bedside table to her desk, were six lit candles, melting rapidly, wax dripping over the edges of the candlesticks and sticking to the wood tables.

Anne's hair cascaded over the edge of the bed, dangerously close to one of the low-burning candles.

"Anne!" Marilla gasped.

Anne stirred in her sleep and moved.

As she woke up, her elbow nearly knocked over her lamp, and her hair missed one of the candles by mere inches.

Marilla leapt to her, catching Anne's hair in her hands and shielding her.

She quickly blew out the candles.

"Wha- what happened?" Anne asked groggily.

"What happened is that you nearly set yourself on fire and could have burned Green Gables down to the ground!" Marilla's voice shook.

Then she looked down. "Oh, Anne."

Anne's eyes followed Marilla's down to the copy of _Tales of Christian Endurance_.

"Oh, no," Anne breathed.

The book, once pristine, was smushed underneath Anne. The page that was open- where her face had been resting after she'd fallen asleep- was crinkled and torn, and there was a wet spot in the middle where she had drooled in her sleep.

Anne and Marilla both stared at the book in silence for a moment.

Anne regretfully picked it up and shook it out. She tried to dab at the drool with the edge of her sheet. She felt awful.

Marilla took a deep breath. Without even looking at her, she could tell Marilla was really angry.

"I…I _meant_ to take good care of the book," Anne said, her voice shaking.

"I am not upset about the book!" Marilla said incredulously.

"You're not?"

"No," Marilla took a deep breath, calming herself. "Of course I'm not happy about the damage you've done. Of course not. But that's beside the point. I decided I was _fine_ with you taking my books up to your room, Anne. I know I didn't say it, but had you asked me I would have said yes. But the fact is, you told me no less than two days ago that you would not remove the books from the parlor. How can I ever trust you if you don't keep your word?"

"I know I said I wouldn't," Anne began. "It's just that I needed something to read last night, and-"

Marilla threw her hands up in frustration. "Yes, and you put your desire to read ahead of all sense and reason. You put your safety and ours at risk!"

Anne looked at her with big eyes.

Marilla looked exasperated. "I try and try to instill in you the values of integrity, trustworthiness, responsibility. Yet you thwart me at every turn."

"Marilla, I…I don't know what to say."

"You don't know what to say," Marilla repeated. "Well that's a first for you, isn't it?"

Her harsh words stung Anne.

Marilla turned on her heel and left, saying, "Hurry to wash and dress or you'll be late. I'll fix something you can eat quickly on your way to school."


	42. Porridge and Promises

Anne got ready for school as quickly as she could, but hesitated at the top of the stairs. She felt apprehensive about going downstairs and facing Marilla.

She took a deep breath and tried to walk down slowly and quietly like a lady instead of noisily banging around like she usually did. Maybe that would count for something.

Marilla was cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She glanced over at Anne as she came in.

"We just had porridge," she said, "It's still hot, but it isn't something you can eat on the way. I was trying to think of what else you could eat that would be easier to take with you on the way to school, like fruit or bread, but nothing sounded like a good breakfast for such a cold morning."

Marilla's voice had lost its rough edges and she sounded gentler now.

"I don't have to take anything with me," Anne said softly. The oatmeal smelled good, but she didn't feel much like eating, and above all she didn't want to make any extra bother for Marilla.

"Don't be silly, you need a good breakfast on a day like this," Marilla said. "I suppose you could take your bowl with you- if you think you could eat it while you're walking?"

Anne looked down at it. "I don't want to take your bowl with me," she said. "What if I dropped it and it broke?"

"If you are careful, you won't likely drop it," Marilla said. She picked up Anne's bowl.

She placed the bowl in Anne's hands, saying, "If you do drop it, we'll survive. Things can happen, even when intentions are pure. I won't hold it against you- I promise."

Anne smiled at her, feeling that all had been forgiven.

"Now scoot! You don't want Mr. Phillips to mark you tardy."

"Okay, Marilla- thank you."

Anne left carrying her bowl of oatmeal, the heat feeling wonderful on her hands as she braced the chilly air.


	43. Sharing a Spoon

Anne was grateful for the warmth of the bowl and for what it did for her hands, but it didn't help the rest of her. She was cold through and through, and dead tired on top of that.

As she approached the woods, Gilbert said, "Morning, Anne," as he stepped out of the trees.

She knew he had spoken first to avoiding startling her like he had the other day, and she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. Seeing a boy come out suddenly from behind the trees with no warning was hard, even if it was only Gilbert.

"Hi, Gilbert," she said quietly. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be here…I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd walked on to school…I hope we're not late. I had a little bit of difficulty in waking up this morning," she explained.

Gilbert was looking at her with concern. "You look exhausted," he said.

"Thanks a lot," she replied.

"I didn't mean you look bad. You just look…"

"Exhausted?" Anne supplied.

Well, he wasn't wrong. Her face was even whiter than usual, she had bags under her eyes and they were red and sleepy looking.

"Trouble sleeping last night?" He asked, concerned.

"I didn't have trouble sleeping last night because I didn't sleep last night," she said tiredly. "I only slept this morning. For maybe an hour or two."

"Ouch," Gilbert said, feeling for her that she was up at all. "Was it…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she answered softly.

Gilbert looked like he wanted to press the issue, but didn't. He walked along beside her.

After a few minutes of walking in the quiet, he asked- motioning to her oatmeal- "Aren't you going to eat that?"

She stopped walking, looked at it, and shook her head. "I'm not hungry. Do you want it?"

"Thanks, no. I ate breakfast," he said. "Why don't you eat it? It'll be good on a cold day like this."

"Well, if you don't want it, I'm going to dump it out." She started to tip the bowl over to dump it, but hesitated. "…I hate to waste, though," she said, biting her lip. Wasting food always made her think of all the times in her past when she'd been hungry.

"Maybe I could just save it and take it home later, or have it for lunch...no, it wouldn't still be good by then. It would be cold and sticky, and I don't even have a cheesecloth to cover it with." That settled, she started to tip the bowl over to dump it.

But then she stopped again. "Are you sure you don't want it? I'm sure it's very good. Everything Marilla makes is good."

"I ate already. You haven't."

Anne shook her head. "I'm not hungry, though."

"You weren't hungry yesterday, either," Gilbert said.

"So?"

"You can't just stop eating, Anne."

Anne frowned. "I'm going to dump it out and waste it, then."

Gilbert smiled. "Well, how about this- why don't we share it?"

"Because I don't want it," Anne said.

"Five bites," he said. "If you eat five bites, then I'll eat the rest. Then it won't be wasted. Okay?"

Anne sighed. "Fine."

After Anne ate five very small bites, she handed the bowl off to Gilbert.

She watched him dig right in, taking a big bite with her spoon. "You don't mind eating off the same spoon I used?"

"Not a bit. And it's good this wasn't wasted, because it's delicious."


	44. Hardship

As they approached the school building, Anne's stomach dropped. She wanted to turn around and run home.

She knew school had begun already because they had heard the bell being ringing as they were approaching the end of the woods, and none of the students were still outside.

 _Glorious,_ she thought. _Now everyone will turn around in their seats and stare at me when I come in._

 _No,_ she realized with dismay. _They'll stare at_ **us.** _Gilbert and I will walk in late together... That certainly doesn't look good_.

She worried about her status with the other girls, but then she had the depressing thought that it may not even matter anymore- they had already seemed to reach a group consensus that she was to be firmly excluded.

They reached the steps. Gilbert looked at her. "You ready?"

"I feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter," she said. "Hitting you with a slate was not my finest moment"- she took a breath- "but now I'll have to face the consequences."

Gilbert's hand was on the doorknob, but before he opened the door, he whispered, "Mr. Phillips can't do anything that matters. Don't let him get to you. He's not worth it."

Anne took a shaky breath.

Gilbert opened the door for her and they walked in.

Everyone turned and looked at them coming in. Anne was slower than necessary in the cloak room taking her shawl and hat off and hanging them up, and when she finally turned back to the class again she avoided looking at Ruby.

Gilbert took his seat. He felt eyes on him, but didn't let it worry him.

As Anne started to walk up the aisle to her seat, Mr. Phillips said, "How kind of you to join us, Miss Shirley. Did you enjoy having the afternoon off yesterday?"

Anne just looked down. "I apologize for flying out of the room and leaving school like that-" she began, but Mr. Phillips interrupted her: "You may take a seat on the other side of the room today, I think."

Anne looked up, startled.

The entire class looked surprised. Sending a girl over to sit with the boys?

"What?" Anne said.

"Go," Mr. Philips said firmly.

"But…I'd be sitting on the boy's side…" Anne tried to protest.

"You're as wild and unmanageable as the worst of any boy, so you should fit right in," Mr. Philips said, his expression smug.

He went on, "And when you decide to conduct yourself with the grace and decorum of a young lady, then you can go sit with the girls again."

Anne didn't move.

"Anne Shirley, after your _shocking_ display with your slate yesterday, making you sit with the boys is truly the _least_ of all I could do to you, so you'd best take it."

Gilbert watched Anne walk slowly across the aisle to the boy's side. He had a worried look on his face. What he could do to help her?

He quickly moved over on his bench and touched the empty space next to him. Gratefully, Anne moved to take it.

"Not there," Mr. Philips said coolly. "Sit in the last row. I want you to be in the back; I don't need you detracting anyone's attention with your foolish antics."

Billy always sat in the back row. He smiled at her.

Why couldn't he be absent today?

"For those of you who arrived late," Mr. Phillips said, looking pointedly at Anne, "We are working on math, the beginning of chapter five. I've assigned everyone to work with a partner on the equations of set three."

Gilbert wished he sat in the row right in front of Billy so he'd be closer, but there was one row between them.

"Well, well," Billy said, smirking at Anne as she reluctantly took the seat beside him. "Here we are, together again,"

Anne didn't look at him. She clutched her math book tightly, her knuckles white.

She swallowed hard and tried to speak, her voice wavering. "We- we need to work on- on chapter-"

Billy leaned forward, invading her personal space. "You think you're so smart, don't you?"

Gilbert turned around and stared hard at Billy.

"What's wrong, man?" Billy said, challenging him, a smirk on his face.

Gilbert didn't say anything. He just continued looking coldly into Billy's eyes.

"What's your problem, Blythe?" Billy said again, harder this time, almost challenging Gilbert.

"I'm watching you." Gilbert said evenly. "Just giving you fair warning. You're being watched."

The two boys in the row between Gilbert and Billy looked at each other. What was going on?

Gilbert gave Anne a moment of reassuring eye contact, then turned back to his own book, keeping his head tilted slightly so that Billy was still in his vision.

As soon as Gilbert's head was just slightly turned, Billy roughly grabbed Anne's book out of her arms. He opened up the book and rifled through it, his fingers all over it, shuffling through the pages very roughly on purpose- as if to show her that he could handle her things however he wanted.

Then, with a mean smile, he dropped the book in front of her with a small thud.

At the sound of the thud, Gilbert turned around again.

Gilbert looked at the book, then Anne's expression. Gilbert asked, "Hey, Anne. I'm not feeling well. I think I'll go see the doctor after school. You want to come with me?"

Billy looked at him.

Anne looked back and forth between the two boys, sensing an unspoken conversation happening through their eye contact.

Billy looked like he was considering something. He had a moment of defiance on his face, but finally his face relaxed and he turned away. "Whatever," he said, shrugging.

Ignoring Anne, Billy opened his own book and leaned over it, working on the math problems by himself.

Anne stared at him. Then she looked at Gilbert. She didn't know what to think. She didn't understand what he had done.

Gilbert leaned between the row that was in the middle of himself and Billy, stretching his arm to reach Anne's book.

He took Anne's math book from her- still laying exactly where Billy had dropped it, since Anne hadn't wanted to touch it.

He would use her book today.

He gave her a small smile as he handed her his own book to use instead.

* * *

Sorry I just uploaded this chapter and now I'm editing back in to add to my author's note.

I'm sorry if it seems like I'm being unnecessarily cruel to Anne by making her sit with Billy, but I wrote it that way because I'm drawing from experience here, and I had to do a history project with this guy pretty much right after what he did, literally the next Monday the project was assigned-and Anne is going through everything I went through...although Anne is handling things a LOT better than me because she is so much stronger and braver and better able to get through bad things and she's imaginative and plus she has Gilbert.

I have been uploading a lot in the past day or two but now it might take me another day or two to do any more because I have too much homework.

I have never tried to write a story before. I mean I've had to write papers for school but I've never written an actual story, so I didn't know if it would be any good or not. So it is nice there are people who like it…thank you so much.


	45. Closed Gates

I know I said I couldn't update for a couple days due to school work but I couldn't sleep so I stayed up and wrote a lot…there's a lot of feelings there so I'm sorry if these next few chapters seem especially heavy.

* * *

Gilbert slipped a note to her right before lunch. _Sit together at lunch?_ He waited to see her response.

She shook her head at him. She looked sorry, but Gilbert understood she probably wanted to try to make up with the girls at lunch time. He still didn't know what had happened with the girls yesterday, but whatever it was, he hoped it had blown over and Anne would actually enjoy her lunch today.

Billy peered over her to try to read the note. Anne looked at him, crumpled the note up in her hand, and moved it to her other hand, the one farther away from him. _Whatever_ , his expression seemed to say. He went back to his own work and ignored her again.

Anne wasn't sure what to do when lunchtime came. She got her basket slowly, trying to muster up the courage to go at least try to talk to the girls.

She walked slowly toward the corner the girls ate lunch in.

Upon her approach, Josie turned and glared at her, with her arm around Ruby, who looked more upset than ever. Tillie didn't react at all until she saw Josie's face and then she glared at Anne too, putting her arm around Ruby like Josie had. Jane looked indifferent, but certainly didn't look as if she was in any hurry to welcome Anne to the lunch corner. Only Diana looked conflicted.

Anne stopped, looking around at their faces. She shook her head sadly and walked away. She didn't have it in her to even try, today. She couldn't try to sit with them, knowing she was unwanted, knowing she would be spurned.

She walked away and sat down at her desk by herself. Diana got up, saying "Hold on," to the other girls, and came over to Anne's desk. Anne had a brief hope that Diana had come to sit with her, but Diana didn't bring her food with her, so Anne knew she was just coming to deliver a message.

Diana looked as if she had practiced what to say. "Now listen, Anne," she said patiently- Anne wondered how many times Diana had rehearsed this speech in her mind before she said it- "I am trying to work on the girls. To get them to accept to you. That's what I want. For you to blend seamlessly into the group. And I know that's what you want too, isn't it? But you've really brought this on yourself, I'm afraid. It's going to be uphill work for me, now, especially since you've made it's clear that you and Gilbert are…an…an item."

Anne started to protest. "We're not..."

Diana said, "You've walked in with him two mornings and Ruby's convinced he's walking you to school now. He left with all your things yesterday, so he's been to your house at least once. And then today he was hoping you'd sit beside him. Ruby's practically in tears. If you want to be in with the girls, you'll have to stop this. Ruby'll never forgive you for it and frankly I don't blame her. Now I love you Anne, I do, but I want you to join in the group and you can't, not as long as you're in Gilbert's affections."

"I am not…in Gilbert's….affections," Anne tried to say.

"Then _do_ something about it, Anne." Diana said.

She looked sadly at Anne for a moment, looking as if she was being pulled in two different directions.

"Anne, I'll sit with you tomorrow. I promise. I will. But today I've got to try to help Ruby." She looked torn, but she finally turned back and walked to the others.

Anne could hear Jane saying in hushed tones, "They walked in together. _Again_. Anne's probably off doing things with him. Everybody knows Anne's the expert on intimate relations."

Ruby wept.

Diana stepped over them to get back to the spot she'd been sitting in, and as she did so, she said "Stop it, Jane, that's not true about Anne, and you're only upsetting Ruby!"

"She's just stating the truth," Ruby wailed. "Did you _see_ the way Gilbert slid right over in his seat beckoning her to sit next to him?! He couldn't _wait_ for Anne to sit with him!"

"He _did_ look awfully upset when Mr. Phillips wouldn't let Anne sit next to him," Tillie agreed.

"Please," Josie whispered. "Gilbert can't possibly actually like her. Don't worry, Ruby dear, that harlot somehow wormed her way into his affections but I'm sure the charm will wear off soon and he'll come to his senses. He won't let himself be defiled by her."

Anne couldn't even sit in the same room, now. She was too upset. She put her sandwich back in her lunch basket and took it outside, even though it was colder outside than it had been yesterday.

Gilbert was sitting on one side of the building with two of his friends, close by to where Billy was throwing a ball around with a couple of his pals. _He's watching him_ , she thought. _He thinks I'm safely inside with the girls, and he's watching Billy out here._

She walked down the steps and sat underneath one of the windows.

After a few minutes Gilbert happened to glance over, and, noticing her, he got up and came over to where she sat.

Anne realized how close she was to the window. She hoped the girls weren't watching.

"Hey," Gilbert said. "Things didn't go so well in there, I take it?"

Anne tried not to look at him. "Go back to your friends; I can't talk to you."

Gilbert looked caught off guard and almost laughed in his confusion. "Wha- Anne, are- are we back to this? At lunch yesterday you did the same thing…I don't understand what's going on, why are you-"

"You can't be my friend!" Anne burst out, upset.

"What?" Gilbert was staring at her like she had two heads.

"You can't be my friend. Not while we're at school."

"Why not?!"

"I can't tell you why not!" She got up again and ran toward the trees.

She wasn't leaving school. She only needed a quiet place away from them all. She sat just inside the treeline, where she could still see the school building, and hugged her lunch basket close to her…already knowing she wouldn't eat a thing.


	46. Decision

I know I just uploaded the previous chapter like five seconds ago. I hope it isn't annoying to have two posted together like that. I mean because I know that some people get emails when chapters get posted. So if it would be better to wait longer to post so you don't get more than one email, tell me and I'll wait. (also just edited back in to update this, I accidentally posted the draft, not the final...oops. It's fixed now.)

* * *

It wasn't more than a few minutes before Gilbert came after her.

He didn't say anything to her.

He just sat down by her side.

Anne stared at the school building. Gilbert stared at it too.

They were quiet.

Finally, still not looking at her, his brows creased, he said: "I wish I could help you, Anne."

"You _have_ helped me," Anne responded after a moment, not looking at him.

"I don't understand you," Gilbert said, shaking his head, still looking at the school. "I _want_ to."

"That's enough for me," Anne said. "Just that you want to." She tried to keep her tears inside.

Gilbert turned and looked at her. "No, it's not. It's not enough."

He said, "Why can't you tell me what's going on? Why is everyone mad at you? Why do you keep running me off? I don't get it."

"Because…" she felt torn. Should she tell him? Would she make things worse if she told him? She decided to- she didn't see how things _could_ get any worse. "The girls don't like me talking to you. That's- that's why they don't want me to be in their clique."

"Why on earth not?"

Anne sighed. "Ruby likes you. _Please_ don't tell anyone. They'd just hate me even more."

Gilbert smiled. "Oh, I see. So they're taking my sudden interest in you as a threat to Ruby."

He said, "I don't know why I didn't pick up on that sooner. I mean, I didn't pick up on the connection between Ruby's deal and how they were treating you. I always knew Ruby was mooning over me- she makes it pretty obvious." He laughed.

"It's not funny," Anne said. "I've never had real friends before."

"Yes you have. You have me." He said, looking into her eyes. "And I'm not going to do anything to make it harder for you to be friends with them. We'll just have to keep this on the sly. We can split up right before we reach the school- once we're out of the woods, I mean. You go on in, and I'll wait a few minutes before I follow. That way no one will know we walked there together."

Anne shut her eyes. She hated all of this so much.

"And I won't talk to you in school- unless it's necessary."

Anne looked down. "I feel awful."

"Don't," he said. "It's okay. And now that I know, things will get easier, right?"

Anne nodded slowly. "Maybe. I hope so."

Gilbert tilted his head to one side. "That's how it goes, a lot of the time, you know? Once you talk about something, it gets better."

Anne didn't say anything.

They were quiet again.

"The bell's going to ring, and then I'm going to have to go back in there and sit with Billy." She rested her head on her knees. She felt glad she hadn't eaten anything. Her stomach was in knots.

"How has it been? I've been trying to listen. But- he hasn't touched you or anything, has he?"

She shook her head. "No. He's just being Billy…his usual gallant, charming self."

And suddenly she burst into tears.

She didn't even know where it came from. She thought she'd been fine. Well, not fine. Never fine. But not like _this_.

"Anne," Gilbert cried in surprise. She hadn't even looked _close_ to tears a moment ago, and now they were everywhere. Her nose was running and she was trying to say something to him, but she was blubbering and gasping and the words wouldn't come out.

Gilbert almost didn't know what to do. He got out his handkerchief and gave it to her. She pressed her face into it, her body heaving as she sobbed.

Gilbert lifted his arm slightly, about to put it around her, but then hesitated, not sure if he should. He changed his mind and put it down. But then he changed his mind again and started to reach out again- when suddenly Anne straightened up and tried to get ahold of herself.

"Ruby hates me. Josie hates me. Jane hates me. Mr. Phillips hates me. Everyone hates me. And I can't eat, and I can't do my work, and I can't sleep at night"- Anne's voice broke- "And I'm scared of something I can't tell anybody about. And now I have the whole afternoon…the whole afternoon…sitting with Billy…I don't see how I can walk back in there," Anne said, wiping her eyes.

"You don't have to," Gilbert said, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes, I do. I can't _leave_. I can't just leave school. I can't do that _again_ ," Anne almost cried. "This time he'd surely tell Marilla! I _can't_ leave…but I can't go back _in_ there…

"You _don't_. You don't _have_ to. Let me walk you home." His voice was urgent, desperate even. " _Right now_. We'll just get up and leave. We'll leave school and go to your house and you'll go in and sit down with Miss Cuthbert and tell her the truth. Tell her _everything_. I'll go inside with you, if it will help. You'll tell her what happened, and then she'll understand why you walked out of school two days in a row, and when Mr. Phillips comes to her to complain _it won't matter_ because she'll _already know_ and she'll be _on your side."_

"But I _can't_ tell her," Anne whispered.

"Why not?" Gilbert said looking deep into her eyes, pleading with her.

"I just _can't_." Anne said. The idea of sitting down with anyone and explaining what had happened to her was beyond the scope of even _her_ imagination.

"Would it really be so bad? Do you think she'd be unkind to you?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't know, I don't know," Anne answered, her face looking like someone trying to wake up from a nightmare. "I can't sit there and _tell_ her. …I can't tell _anyone_."

"Could you tell me?" Gilbert whispered.

"You already know about it."

"No, I don't," he said, startling her with the realization that it was true. "You've never talked about it. Not even once."

He swallowed, continuing: "I _know_ what Billy did to you. I saw enough to piece that together myself. And once you knew that I knew, you asked me not to tell anyone. And you- you told me about things you'd heard- things you'd heard from the Hammonds- about intimate relations, but, Anne, that was no intimacy."

He shook his head. "But you've never spoken of what happened."

Anne stared at him.

"Maybe…maybe if you could tell me about it then you would see that talking about it doesn't have to be scary. You could tell me, and then you'll know how to tell Miss Cuthbert."

"Like…practice," Anne said, with a shaky breath.

"Right."

The bell rang. They looked at each other. This had to be the moment of decision.

"You don't have to go in there," Gilbert reminded her.

Anne took a deep breath. "I'll be okay," she said. "I have you."


	47. Rise

Anne had been so distracted and slow in the morning working on math that she hadn't finished the problems and decided she would take them home with her to work on them in peace.

Mr. Phillips had assigned everyone to work on the math together with their desk partner- presumably so he didn't have to actually teach the lesson, Anne thought wryly. But after Gilbert did…well, whatever it was he did- Anne still didn't understand what Gilbert had communicated to Billy through their eye contact- Billy had suddenly lost interest in her and did the work by himself.

Of course Anne preferred it that way.

But when Mr. Phillips collected "their" paper from the math work, she wondered how many problems Billy had gotten wrong and how it would reflect poorly on her own grade. She would have preferred to turn in _her_ paper as "their" paper, but since she hadn't finished, they'd have to just go with his.

The afternoon was better because it began with reading.

With the morning out of the way- Anne was eager to consider the morning past and the afternoon new with nothing bad in it- she looked forward to reading in her reader.

She finished the assigned reading passage and then worked on the questions in the book.

Once she finished, she moved ahead in her book, looking for something new she could read to fill the time.

She stopped on a poem in her book. Emily Dickinson. Anne liked when the writers in her book were women. There weren't nearly as many of them as men, and Anne felt uplifted by them. They were women with _voices_ , making their voices heard. Their thoughts were printed into books and sent all over the country- maybe all over the world- for countless people to be inspired by.

 _We never know how high we are_

 _Till we are called to rise;_

 _And then, if we are true to plan,_

 _Our statures touch the skies—_

 _The Heroism we recite_

 _Would be a daily thing,_

 _Did not ourselves the Cubits warp_

 _For fear to be a King—_

Anne sat back, thinking about this.

 _I can't lose myself_. The thought came into her mind like a flash of lightning, so striking and bold it was as if God himself had put it there. _Billy may have taken things away from me, but he can't take_ _ **me**_ _._

She sat up from her book, new resolution firming itself. _No matter how he knocks me down, I'm still me, and I'm perfectly capable of rising._

She had a few minutes free and she decided to try writing a little story about a plucky heroine who finds herself battling a big, fiery breathed dragon.

She felt very inspired.

It didn't take long before she found herself faced with a test of this new resolve.

Billy finally finished the reading and started answering the question portion. He began looking over at her paper to steal her answers. But he noticed she wasn't still answering the questions, she was writing something else.

Anne could feel him peering over her. She wanted to pull away from him and cover up her paper, but she fought that urge. She refused to change anything she was doing for him- she wasn't going to move, she wasn't going to cover her paper, she wasn't going to act as if it bothered her at all that he was even there. She kept writing. _He can look at my paper all he wants_ , she thought, _why not? If Mr. Phillips sees him, he'll get in trouble for looking at someone else's paper, and it'll be his own fault._ She kept writing and ignoring him.

Billy was surprised- he was sure she was aware that he was looking, and he had expected a reaction by now. Why wasn't she doing anything? Maybe he needed to do something more drastic.

He snatched her paper.

Anne, startled, stared straight ahead breathing hard as if she was trying to stay calm. Her face looked exactly the same way it had looked when Gilbert grabbed her hair that day. _This is great_ , he thought, _she's about to blow up_.

But she didn't. She turned to him, eyebrows raised.

Billy didn't even have to speak that quietly since there were different groups doing different things and there was a steady hum of quiet conversation in the room. Whatever he said could blend in without attracting much attention.

Holding her paper up, he said, "What have you got here?"

Anne said coldly, "Don't you already know? I thought you'd finished reading it by now."

Billy, in a mocking tone, read her title aloud. "The Tale of Persephone and the Dragon".

Through tight lips, she said, "It is pronounced 'Per-SEFF-uh-nee', not 'PER-seff-on'. It is _Greek_."

She wanted to snatch her paper back, but she didn't. She didn't want him to know how angry he was making her.

Billy wanted to make fun of her story, but he didn't know how to. It annoyed him because - from what he had read while peering over her- he actually thought it was really good. It sounded like a real story, one you would read in a book.

"That's stupid," he finally said, letting the paper drop on the desk.

"I didn't realize you were a literary critic."

"A what?"

Anne said, "You might want to go back to your work now. It would benefit you to learn something." She turned back to her paper and began to write again.

Billy _was_ going to start his work again, but now he couldn't, because she had _told_ him to.

So instead he picked up his pen, and- slowly and deliberately- he dipped his pen into her inkwell.

"Get. Your. Pen. Out of my. Ink." Her voice was icy.

He started to take his pen out, but then dipped it back in again, filling Anne with rage.

They'd been quiet, but Gilbert happened to glance backward then- he'd been looking back from time to time, and now he turned and saw Billy's arm resting across Anne's side of the desk with his pen in Anne's inkwell.

Gilbert looked at Anne's face. "Billy-" he said, loud enough that the two boys between them looked up.

Billy smirked. "I'm done letting you boss me around, Blythe".

Anne was shaking inwardly, but took a deep breath. "It's fine, Gilbert," she said to him.

She looked back at Billy. A brief snippet in time flashed across her mind of the way his eyes had looked in the woods that day. She blinked it away and firmed her resolve. As confidently as she could, forcing herself to stare straight into Billy's eyes, she said:

"I am not afraid of you."


	48. Belief

"I am not afraid of you," she said, surprised at how steadily the words came out. She had thought her voice would shake, but it hadn't.

She looked at Gilbert.

...Anne had never seen anyone look so proud of her in all her life. She gave him a small smile back.

"I've been slacking, then. I'll have to try harder." Billy laughed and put his pen away.

Before Anne could respond to that, Mr. Phillips called the class to attention.

She was glad class was resuming, because she didn't know what to say in response to his statement.

Not that she wanted the conversation to continue anyway.

She closed her bottle of ink. She wanted to throw the whole thing out. _It's not ruined_ , she told herself. _Just because he put his pen in it doesn't make it ruined. It's still perfectly good ink, and I'm going to use it to write beautiful stories. He can't stop me._

It was a lie, of course; not being scared.

It wasn't _quite_ as bad here in school. She felt shaken, but she knew that he couldn't do anything to her- not really, anyway- while they were in school surrounded by other people.

But she hated having to see him at all. When she looked at him, she relived everything. Avoiding his eyes- which she couldn't do because it was a sign of weakness- didn't help. She didn't _have_ to avoid his eyes, it didn't matter _where_ she looked. Even seeing his arms made her feel like she was trapped.

And she felt sick at the thought that maybe _he_ was reliving it, too. When he looked at her, what was he thinking? Did he remember the way she'd cried and find it to be a happy memory?

It was the thought of encountering him alone that she feared the most: It was why she couldn't go anywhere by herself, why she couldn't face the woods, why she had to be watchful at lunchtime. She _was_ afraid.

But he couldn't know that.

She could _not_ let him see her shaking. Because if he did- if he _knew_ how much he had affected her- then he had won.

So she would cling to this lie, of not being afraid. Her whole life, now, seemed to full of secrets and lies; at least this one was for a good cause.

And- she hoped- it wouldn't _stay_ a lie.

She'd keep saying it, keep thinking it, over and over and over- _I am not afraid._

And maybe someday, she would believe it.


	49. Bravery

Gilbert had a smile on his face for the rest of the afternoon.

She was brave. Not because she wasn't scared- he _knew_ she was scared.

But bravery wasn't about not being scared, he thought. True bravery was being scared and insisting on standing tall despite it.

He wondered, though, what to do on his end.

He had threatened Billy that he would rat him out if he hassled Anne again. Clearly, Billy didn't feel threatened by him and was going to hassle Anne anyway.

So should he keep his word and out him?

The problem with his threat to rat Billy out if he bothered Anne, was that he didn't _want_ to rat Billy out. Not out of concern for Billy's welfare, but for Anne's. While Gilbert vehemently disagreed with Anne's choice not to tell anyone, he did not want to be like Billy- Billy had made choices _for_ Anne, without her consent, and Gilbert wasn't about to do the same. If Anne didn't want to tell anyone, then he would not make that decision for her.

Unless something drastic happened- something where someone _had_ to know, he thought- if lives were at stake or there was danger to someone else- he supposed there could come a time when the events would have to be brought to light, but that would be only if the situation were extreme and he didn't know what else to do.

The only thing, then, was to convince Anne that she should tell.

* * *

I have never written a story before and I didn't think this would get so long…sorry. I promise though, I am not just writing aimlessly, I made an outline for myself and there is a specific plan for the story and the way it will end.


	50. Early Dismissal

Mr. Phillips unexpectedly dismissed them early that afternoon.

Gilbert wondered if something was wrong, because Mr. Phillips had seemed distracted all day, and had avoided actually teaching as much as possible. It had been unusual for him to assign students to go over lessons in pairs, rather than addressing the lecture himself in front of the class.

Anne was glad for the early dismissal, because her newfound bravery was exhausting.

She wanted to go home and see if Marilla would mind if she took a nap before dinner- maybe she could catch up on the hours of sleep she'd missed the night before.

She was slow about getting ready to go, hoping most of the other students would leave before she did. She couldn't let the girls see her leave with Gilbert, but she also couldn't walk off alone to meet up with him later.

Gilbert was slow, too. He acted as if he needed to finish up some work before he left, and Anne pretended to clean her desk.

Finally most of the students were gone, except for a few lingering boys who would make no difference in the matter, and Prissy, who Mr. Phillips had asked to stay late for extra tutoring.

Gilbert went to get his coat and hat. He whispered to Anne, "I'll head toward the woods. Meet me there."

Anne nodded, collecting her belongings. She hoped that none of the girls were hanging around outside anywhere where they would see her walking home.

But no one did.

Anne and Gilbert set off.

Gilbert was glad school had let out early. It would give him some time to talk to Anne, before she had to get home.

They had a _lot_ to talk about it, he thought.


	51. Shock

Billy walked home without his sisters. With Prissy staying late for help from Mr. Phillips, and Jane off to Ruby's house for the afternoon, he headed home alone.

He got almost half way home before he realized he'd forgotten his history book.

He'd have to go back, he thought. If he missed another assignment, Mr. Phillips would probably come over and tell his parents that they needed to get onto him about his work ethic.

He sighed and turned around.

When he got back to the school, he found the door locked.

Mr. Phillips must have locked up and gone home already, he thought unhappily.

It was odd, though, that he hadn't run into Prissy walking home while he was walking back to the school. Surely she'd already be walking home if the school building was closed.

He looked in the window to see if Mr. Phillips was still there, despite the door being locked-

And he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

For there, in the middle of the school room, his sister Prissy was locked in a kiss with Mr. Phillips.


	52. Disbelief

Billy backed away from the window.

He leaned against the wall of the school, breathing hard.

Prissy.

Prissy and Mr. Phillips.

They were…they were…

What should he do?

Should he knock on the door?

He wanted to burst the door down and tell Mr. Phillips to get off his sister.

Prissy didn't look as if she was being attacked in any way…she looked blissfully happy.

 _No_ , Billy thought. _He's taking advantage of her. She…she doesn't know what she's doing._

He stayed still a moment, his mind reeling, trying to think of what to do.

Finally he decided not to do anything right now. He needed time to figure this out. He took a deep breath and started for home again.

 _What if it was true? What she had said…Anne…Fido…whatever._

No, he shook his head to himself. It couldn't be.

It was a kiss. A kiss wasn't intimate relations. A kiss was…just a kiss.

It was perfectly harmless, he decided.

But how long had this been going on? And…what had Anne seen that led her to believe it was more than a kiss?

If she'd seen them kissing, wouldn't she have just said they _kissed_? But she'd said they were having intimate relations. Had she seen more than a kiss?

…It wasn't possible.


	53. Start

I noticed today that as of today (July 19) there are 57 people on the story alert for my story.

The first time one person subscribed to it, I felt really honored because I didn't know if anyone would want to read it….well today there are 57…I'm blown away. Thank you guys so much.

* * *

Gilbert Blythe had one objective this afternoon: Convince Anne to tell.

There were a lot of reasons she should, but he knew that however many reasons there were, none of them mattered if she couldn't get past this hurdle of being able to _say_ it.

He hoped that if she could manage to say the words out loud to him, the words would lose their power over her, and she'd find herself able to say them to the Cuthberts.

After school had let out, Gilbert asked, "You want to go back in the woods and talk for a while? No one will expect us home till school would have let out."

"Okay," Anne said.

"I can't help but wonder why Mr. Phillips let us out early," Gilbert commented as they walked.

"Probably to be with Prissy," Anne said quietly.

Gilbert looked at her.

"He asked her to stay late," Anne said, pulling her shawl more tightly around herself.

Noticing this, Gilbert offered, "We could go to my house, if it's too cold?"

"No, it's fine."

They walked on.

"I feel uneasy about leaving them, then," Gilbert said. "It doesn't seem right."

Anne shrugged. "Everyone knows. Because I told them."

"What did people say?"

"Well, Marilla got in trouble with the club she was joining. Now they don't want her. I don't know much about it, because she won't tell me. But all the ladies in the club think I'm a harlot."

Gilbert shook his head. But then he had a thought, "Wait- isn't Mrs. Andrews in that club?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, then she knows…what you said, about Prissy and Mr. Phillips…and she's just okay with it?"

"I don't know," Anne said. "I don't think she believes it. She said it was slander. Their family talked about it all night…"

"How do _you_ know?" Gilbert asked. "What their family talked about all night?"

Anne let her breath out. In a small voice, she said:

"Billy told me."

They reached her hideaway and went in.


	54. Try

"Oh…I didn't realize there was a…a conversation," Gilbert said as he went in to the little house.

"There was," she said, stepping through the door. "A brief one."

Gilbert sat down on the boards, settling in for the discussion that would ensue.

When Anne didn't elaborate, he prompted, "Before…?"

Anne, now seated in the corner, her voice rather clipped, said only:

"Before."


	55. Case

"You think you can tell me about what happened?" Gilbert asked after a moment.

Anne stared at him. Then she bit her lip. "Maybe later," was all she said.

Gilbert nodded slowly.

They just sat there a moment looking at each other.

Since Anne clearly wasn't going to facilitate this discussion, Gilbert spoke up, moving on to the next item on his agenda: "I've been thinking about reasons you should tell the Cuthberts what happened."

Anne groaned. "Gilbert-"

"There are _reasons_ , Anne. I have reasons."

"And I am sure they are perfectly valid reasons, Gilbert, but-"

"I made a list."

"You made a _list_?" She already sounded angry; this wasn't starting out well.

"Two, actually. One of reasons you should tell them, and one of possible ways you could bring up the subject with them."

"I feel I've been conspired against," Anne commented dryly.

"I'm not conspiring against you," Gilbert said, "I'm trying to help you."

"You have a funny way of showing it. I don't want to tell them. And you were made well aware of that."

"I know, but- just hear me out, okay?"

Anne looked at him. He could tell by her expression that this was not going to be easy. When he'd told her, the other day, that she seemed like a determined girl, he'd had no idea. This was going to be an uphill battle.

"Give me a chance, all right? Fair and square. Let me argue my case."

Anne said coldly, "Are you planning a career as a lawyer?"

Gilbert said, "I guess that depends on whether or not I win my first case."

"Well if that's what you're going to base it on, you'd best find another vocation right now."

"That's all right," Gilbert said, "I don't want to be a lawyer anyway. It's a job with too much arguing. I plan to do all my arguing at home with my wife."

"Haha," Anne said, in a way that clearly told him she didn't find him funny.

He got out his two lists.

Anne stared at the papers, her cheeks hot, already preparing to be angry with him. "There's nothing _identifying_ on those papers, I hope."

"No, I didn't write what happened, or your name," he said. "Or Billy's name, either."

Anne looked doubtful.

Gilbert held the paper out to her, saying, "I was careful to write in such a way that if anyone found them, they wouldn't be able to tell what they were about."

"Still…"

"Here- you want to look? You can see what I wrote. So you'll know there's nothing anyone could tell from them."

Anne did not take the papers he held out. She did not want to touch the papers, because they didn't currently happen to be by a fireplace she could throw them into.

As if reading her mind, Gilbert said, "No one will see them, anyway- when I get home, I'll put them in the fire. Or, no, actually, you should take them home. Then you can at least reconsider."

"I won't," Anne said.

"All right. Well, please, can we talk about them?"

Anne stared at him, looking a bit stony.

Gilbert smiled at her. "You've got to show me how badly I argue a case, all right? If I don't lose to you, I might decide to become a lawyer and be miserable my whole life. And you'll ruin marriage for me, too, because I'll argue cases so much at work that I'll come home with no fight left in me, and then who's my wife going to argue with?"

"…All right."


	56. Ways

"Why don't you start with your list of ways I could tell them," Anne said. "I believe I'll be able to shut those down faster."

Gilbert smiled. "Fine."

He looked down at his paper.

"Okay, my first one is, you don't even have to plan anything to say. No speeches, no explanations. Just say Billy hurt you. That's it. One sentence."

"And then…"

"And then _they'll_ take it from there. They'll start asking questions about what happened. All you'd have to do is answer their questions."

"Oh, is that all?" Anne said sarcastically. "All I'd have to do is answer their questions? Sounds so simple when you put it that way. _No._ "

"Would that idea work if you didn't have to tell them Billy's name? You could tell them that _someone_ hurt you. They'll ask who, but you don't have to lead off with that."

"Next," she said flatly, her eyebrows raised.

Gilbert, seeing her face, looked back at his paper and moved on.

"You could write a letter and give it to them. I think you must be a good writer, and you said you like writing-"

"But not writing that!"

"I know, and it won't be fun, but my point is, you express yourself well in words, don't you? Writing things down helps. It might be a good way to handle this."

Anne looked unconvinced.

"You could even ask them to wait to read it till after you've gone to school. That will give them some time to adjust to the news before they see you again."

"It would make it easier," Anne began, "If they couldn't open it till I left."

But then she felt an involuntary shudder go through her shoulders. "No, no. I'd feel absolutely sick all day, thinking about them waiting on me to come home...the way their faces might look when I walk through the front door…"

Then she shook her head decidedly. "It's no good anyway- There's too much _permanency_ in letters. Once someone has your words written down, they get to keep a little piece of you _forever_."

Gilbert had never thought of that…someone forever having a part of you because they had your words...He found Anne's perspectives on life intriguing.

"Well, how about just writing a letter as practice, but talking to them in person? It might help to write things down, even if you never show it to anybody. You could even write on your slate, because you can erase it when you're done."

Anne bit her lip. "This whole thing isn't a good idea."

"Okay. Moving on," Gilbert said, undeterred. "Ask them to sit down with you one evening, and begin by telling them that you _want_ to talk to them about something, but you're too scared. Open with that line- that you're _scared_ \- I think that's a good move, because if they're worrying about you being scared, they'll be less likely to react negatively."

"I couldn't," Anne said. "I couldn't possibly."

Gilbert sighed. "Okay. Well maybe…maybe that feels like a production. You don't have to sit them down and _announce_ it to them. You don't even have to tell _both_ of them. Who are you closer to?"

"Matthew," Anne said immediately.

"Then go to him- at a time when he's by himself, and somewhere private. You tell him, and leave it to him to tell Miss Cuthbert."

Anne looked upset. "I can't tell Matthew. I fear it might break his heart to hear that someone did something like _that_ to me. I can just _imagine_ his devastated countenance. He loves me so much…so _wonderfully_ …more than anyone ever has…"

She looked at Gilbert, a profound realization forming: "I always thought it would be a glorious thing to be loved so tenderly by someone, and to feel free to love them back just the same, but…I never thought about the other side of the coin."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked.

Anne said, "Once you know you love someone, all you want is to protect them from pain."

Gilbert looked into her eyes. "I know."

Anne's eyes filled with tears as she continued, "I don't want to tell him something that's going to _burden_ him."

"Would it be better, then, to go to Miss Cuthbert first and let _her_ tell him?" Gilbert asked.

"It wouldn't be like telling Matthew, that's for certain. I don't mean to say she doesn't love me," Anne rushed on. "But she's more…" she trailed off, sighing. "Matthew would be terribly sad, but…I'm afraid Marilla would just be angry with me."

She shook her head. "Maybe I'm a coward. Not facing her because she might be angry with me. If she's going to yell at me, if she's going to blame me for starting the whole thing, it'll be my cross to bear."

"She'd be wrong, Anne," Gilbert said instantly. "If you do- if she is- don't let it upset you. You did _not deserve_ what happened to you, no matter _what_ you said."

Anne just stared at him.

"I still have more ways, ok? We'll find a way that works," Gilbert told her, trying to sound more confident than he felt.


	57. Reason

But they didn't find a way to tell the Cuthberts- not one that Anne would agree to.

Anne shot him down one by one, until he had nothing left.

"I'm not giving up," he told her. "Let's move on to reasons why you should tell them. Those are more important, anyway."

He didn't say it, but they were more important because he thought that if he could give her a good enough reason, she'd concede.

"I don't really need a list for this," he said, setting the paper down. "The first reason you should tell them- the most important reason- they're your family now, and families shouldn't have to have secrets." Gilbert said. "They love you. They'll want to protect you. That's what families are for."

Anne took a shaky breath.

"Gilbert," she said. "Tell me about Alberta."

Gilbert's eyes changed, caught off guard at the sudden shift. But he looked at her face, and he knew that the conversation was over.

She wasn't being stubborn this time. She just couldn't take any more.

"What do you want to know about Alberta?" he asked softly.

She closed her eyes.

" _Everything_."

So he told her.


	58. Gilbert

"Do you have brothers and sisters?" she asked, when Gilbert had rounded up his account of his trip to Alberta. "I thought you didn't, because they'd have been at school, or you would've mentioned them by now, but then I thought they might be older than you and off on their own."

"No…no, it's always been just me and my dad," Gilbert said.

"You care for him all by yourself, then, in his illness," Anne remarked softly. "It must be a lot to contend with."

"Not at all," Gilbert said, but Anne didn't quite believe him.

Then he looked at her and said, "He took care of me by himself. Now it's my turn to take care of him."

"Were you very young when you lost your mother?" Anne asked softly.

She was afraid that Gilbert had found her question too intrusive, because he was quiet at first. But after a moment, he said:

"She left this world as I came into it."

"So you never got to know her," Anne whispered sadly.

"I know her in my own way," he finally said. "I know what made her laugh…I know about her favorite things…about her childhood…and how she met my father, and how much they loved each other…"

He looked wistful; it was Anne who looked like she could cry.

He smiled. "My father told me once that if I ever wanted to see her smiling I should just look in the mirror. He said her smile was…impish, that's what he called it. An impish grin. …He said whenever I smiled that way, he could see her face just as plain as day."

"How wonderful," Anne said out loud to herself more than to him. "To _know_ things like that."


	59. Wonder

But her face turned troubled, and Gilbert asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm so sorry about your mother. It's awful." Anne said.

"Yeah. Um, thanks," Gilbert said. "I don't talk about it much. It just is what it is, you know?"

Anne, trying to find a good thing in a bad situation, said, "I suppose it's a very _noble_ way to die, though, giving your life for your child's…"

Gilbert found that statement a bit off-putting, but told himself that she meant well.

But he watched her, concerned. He could _see_ her thinking, when he looked at her eyes he could see wheels turning, but couldn't piece together what worry had suddenly come to her mind. And of course he couldn't know-

"Have you ever witnessed a baby being born?" Anne asked, the question bursting out suddenly and rather loudly.

"Sure, lots," Gilbert answered.

This surprised Anne.

She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to: "What's it like?

"It's…amazing. Seeing a new life coming into the world…it's messy, and looks awfully uncomfortable, but…still. There's nothing else like it."

"And you've really watched all that?"

"Yeah," Gilbert replied. "I've even help deliver them."

Anne was shocked at how casually he said this, as if it were just a common, ordinary fact to be thrown around.

She said, "You've actually _delivered_ babies?"

"Sure. As incredible as it is, birth is a difficult and dangerous thing- cows can't always do it on their own, and sometimes there are problems with the birth, so you have to get the calf positioned right and….what's wrong?"

Anne stared at him.

"What?"

" _Humans_ , Gilbert, humans! I'm asking about _humans!_ Have you ever been present at a birth?"

"Just my own," Gilbert joked.

Anne didn't laugh.

"Why do you want to know, anyway? What's the sudden interest in childbirth?"

Anne took a shuddery breath.


	60. Truth Revisited

She was about to tell him her worry that had begun with Emily Perkin's baby, but she stopped.

The only thing less bad than talking about that, was talking about Billy, and suddenly she felt she had it in her to tell him about what had happened.

She spoke haltingly: "I- I think I can…tell you…about Billy now."

"Okay," he said quietly, nodding.

It took her a while to start.

Gilbert sat in silence, not wanting to rush her.

"Um…it was…on the way to school…"

Gilbert knew that part, of course, but didn't say anything. He would let her tell her story the way she wanted to.

"He came out from behind a tree." She said.

Gilbert nodded.

It was a while before she said anything else.

Finally she continued, "He said he wanted to talk. And there was something… _off_ about the way he said 'talk', like…like he knew he wasn't using the word for what it meant."

Gilbert knew exactly what she meant.

Anne continued, "He said…he said something about their family talking all night, or Prissy crying, or something like that. I…I can't remember exactly."

"That's okay."

"Slander," she said.

"Slander?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah…he, um…he called it slander. What I said about Prissy, it was slander. And…he said he'd slander me, only…only I knew he didn't mean slander like _talking_ …I…"

She stopped, trying to control her shallow breathing. "…I didn't know what he meant."


	61. Truth Continued (Warning- Trigger)

Sorry my chapters have been short. I don't have as much time at the moment due to condensed summer courses, and, TBH some chapters are hard to write (like these ones) so I do them in shorter bursts.

I still want to keep writing though, I'm going to finish my story.

This one isn't as short as the previous ones because I wanted to just get it all out fast.

* * *

Without any emotion at all, she said, "He kept calling me Fido."

In the past, this had made her angry, hurt, and embarrassed. And it _still_ did, but…It was funny how everything had changed for her in only a matter of days. _Fido_ once seemed like the worst thing in the world, second only to _carrots_ , giving her a gaping wound in her heart…Now, Fido was a tiny scratch.

"He said…"

She stopped, shaking her head, trying to control the influx of emotion that suddenly hit her.

"He said he had to teach me a lesson."

Gilbert's face looked pained.

"That's when he grabbed my arm. Before, when you asked when he grabbed my arm? Well, that's when it was."

Anne looked up at his face, suddenly, saying "I can stop. You don't want to hear this. You shouldn't have to hear this."

Gilbert shook his head. "You handled living it, I can handle hearing about it."

There was a beat, and then- "He called me trash."

After that, she looked as if she wasn't sure how to go on. Finally she said,

"And then I tried to get away."

She stopped talking, looking down, and Gilbert wondered whether she would continue, or if that was all she was going to say.

Finally he said, "'You don't have to tell me, Anne, if it's too hard. But I hope you know you _can_. I can take it. Ok? And I know you're strong enough to do this. If you're worried about my reaction, you don't need to be."

Anne nodded, taking a shaky breath, and continued:

"Suddenly I was...on the ground, the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't breathe. It just happened so fast."

Gilbert nodded.

"I didn't know what was about to happen. I'd never heard of anything like that before, so I didn't…I didn't _know_. I thought he was going to _hit_ me. I was _expecting_ him to hit me. But he didn't."

Gilbert just waited.

"The first…. _sign_ , I guess, was…he…he pushed his knee between my legs. I didn't realize it at the time, but…now I see that he did that because he had to make sure I couldn't keep my…my legs-" She stopped, almost choking. "He was making sure I wouldn't be able to… _prevent_ him."

Gilbert's instinct was to reach out to her, but didn't want to scare her.

"He kept talking. All this time. But I…I don't remember everything…I can't remember what he said."

Gilbert nodded. "I can understand that. When things happen so suddenly, memory can go kind of blurry."

"And it's weird, because…" -she rubbed her shoulders; her neck was tightening up- "Because it's like…it feels like everything happened so fast, but at the same time it also felt like it was in slow motion…I can't reconcile the two. There are moments that stick out to me like we were frozen in time, and others seem like these quick flashes that happened too fast to remember at all."

She screwed her eyes shut when an image of Billy's face- just inches away from her own- made its way into her mind. She tried to remind herself that it was a _memory_ , it _wasn't real_ , it wasn't _**now**_ \- but that was hard to do when she could actually almost feel the sweat on his skin and his breath on her face. She opened her eyes again, shivering.

"I heard my petticoat rip, but even then it didn't occur to me…I thought he was just, you know, being mean, messing up my clothes. It wasn't until my, um, underwear got ripped that I...it wasn't till _then_ that I realized this wasn't what I thought it was going to be."

She bit her lip. "That's kind of everything _before_."

Gilbert nodded slowly.

She realized she'd been twisting her hair around her fingers. She stopped now, and Gilbert noticed her hands were shaking.

"The pain hit me before I even understood what was happening."

She was quiet for a couple of minutes, and then everything came out in a rush: "And while... _it..._ was happening, he was still talking to me, and I don't know what he was saying, he just kept talking, and I was trying to breathe and I felt like I was suffocating and when I cried he covered my mouth and his elbow hit my head and I was pushing against his chest because I was trying to get him to _stop_ but I _couldn't_ and…" She had to stop, unable to breathe.

Gilbert's head tilted, looking at her, wishing there was something he could do to make this easier.

"It hurt." Anne said shakily. "It still hurts."

"It _still_ hurts?" Gilbert repeated. He hadn't realized that, and it hit him straight in the heart.

"Maybe I'm imagining pain that isn't there anymore," she said. "Because it's whenever I think about it. Whenever I remember. Then it hurts."

She looked down, whispering. "I tried to tell him I was sorry but that didn't do anything."

He nodded.

"I tried to stop him," she said, looking at Gilbert as if pleading with him to believe her.

"I know."

"I tried to get away."

"I know," he repeated. "Anne, there was nothing you could have done. You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough. I should have been able to stop him."

"How, exactly? He's bigger than you, and stronger, and you were alone in the woods, and you didn't have anyone there or anything to protect yourself. What else _could_ you have done?"

"I don't know," she said with a shuddery breath. "But something."

Gilbert shook his head. "There wasn't anything you could have done. Don't keep thinking that, don't keep thinking you messed up. You didn't."

"But…if I'd never said anything about Prissy in the first place, it wouldn't have happened."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe something else would have set him off. You don't know. People say things they shouldn't say all the time, it doesn't give him…"

Gilbert stopped and started over. "Someone doing something wrong doesn't then give the other person permission to do something wrong. It's like…it's like if you were at the mercantile and you saw a kid taking a peppermint without paying for it. Does that make it okay for you to steal a peppermint too?"

"Of course not," Anne said.

"Exactly. He can't say, 'she did this, and it was wrong, so now I'm going to do something wrong because she did.' It doesn't work that way. No matter what you did, he's still responsible for his own decisions. Saying something bad about Prissy didn't _force_ him to do that to you. He _chose_ to do that."

Anne bit her lip. Finally she nodded. It was logical, but it would be a long time before she would look back on the encounter and not feel some sense of responsibility for what had happened.

"Afterward, he, um, he got his pants back up without me seeing anything…I'm glad for that, at least…he didn't look at me, either…it…it would have been even worse, if he had…but…I thought he was going to leave and he didn't, and I started to get scared about what else he might do. He _still_ wouldn't let me go, he was sitting on my arm, his knees were on my arm, I mean, and…" She had begun rubbing her arm while talking, without realizing it, the bruises there still fresh. "And then you came."

Gilbert wished he'd been there sooner.

Anne was glad he'd been there at all.


	62. Words (Warning- trigger)

_You like this?_

Anne sat straight up.

 _This is what you did to my sister. Now you know how it feels. This is what you did to her._

Words she couldn't remember only moments before, now seared into her mind like a branding iron. She closed her eyes but they didn't go away. The sentence burned, fire and smoke singing off the letters.

 _Now you're gonna remember that she's not dirty trash like_ _ **you**_ _are. You understand me?_

Anne gasped, tears coming anew.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked.

She shook her head. Words held so much power, but she couldn't let them... "Words. They're just words…"

This time Gilbert didn't fight his instinct, and she fell readily into his arms.


	63. Baby

Sorry this chapter and the previous ones were heavier but they kind of had to be, for her to tell Gilbert what happened.

Like I said before, when this happened and I never told anyone, I worried for weeks about pregnancy. Didn't happen and it won't for Anne either, but she's worrying because I worried too.

* * *

After a few minutes, her tears turned to hiccups, and finally quieted down, and then she pulled away from him, sitting up straight. She was glad he'd been there, but she was embarrassed at the way she'd lost control.

Gilbert took a deep breath when she pulled away. He wiped his eyes quickly. But she didn't see it, because she wasn't looking at him. She was staring straight ahead, thinking, preparing herself to tell him something else. She'd been working up to it; she felt now that she could tell him anything.

"Marilla had a doctor over. About my arm. And…while he was there, he and Marilla were talking about somebody having a baby…Emily-somebody."

"Emily Perkins? She had a baby a day or two ago. I know them. Well, I know her husband, sort of. His dad is friends with my dad." Gilbert said.

"She's grown up, and married." Anne commented.

"Yeah…" Gilbert replied, a little confused about the sudden conversation change to people Anne didn't even know.

Anne was almost afraid to say the words out loud. She bit her lip. "You don't _have_ to be married to have a baby..."

Gilbert began, "I thought you had to be married first-"

"No, you don't," Anne said, looking at him incredulously. "The only reason we think that is because people don't do _this_ until they're married! _This_ is what makes babies. And you're not supposed to do _this_ , until you're married!"

"I know that _now_. You didn't let me finish, I was saying I thought you had to be married when I was younger…I didn't know how it worked yet. I didn't know about… _that_. I mean, I _knew_ about it, like, I'd seen- I'd seen _animals_ do that on the farm- but I guess I didn't connect the dots yet to understand that _people_ do that, too, and so I remember just thinking that a man and a woman get married and then sometime after they're married then a baby just…appears. …Wow, that feels like a long time ago now."

Anne took a breath before continuing, "Well, you don't _have_ to be married, but you're _supposed_ to be. One of the families I stayed with...there was a girl in the village who had a baby when she hadn't been married and..."

Anne trailed off, looking upset.

"What about her?" Gilbert asked, concerned.

Anne took a shaky breath and answered, "She was treated so horribly. Ostracized. She was a social pariah."

"Anne, where is this coming from?" Gilbert asked, concerned.

"What if…what if _I_ could have a baby?" She said, as if she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth. "How would I face Marilla and Matthew? I'd make them _outcasts_ in this town…Everyone would talk about it..."

Then something even worse hit her: "I'm sure they'd send me back; how could they keep me if I caused them such shame among everyone they know?"

"Mr. Cuthbert wouldn't send you away," Gilbert said, shaking his head.

"Oh, I don't think Matthew would _want_ to send me back. Marilla would, I'm sure of it. But Matthew- _dear_ Matthew- the thing of it is, everyone would turn against them. They'd never be accepted in polite society again. How could I cause them such grief? I'd _have_ to go back to the orphanage…"

Gilbert was about to try to reassure her when her eyes changed and with stark realization, she said, "Who knows if the orphanage would even _take_ me back? Maybe they wouldn't. It would reflect poorly on them...and they'd worry the other girls would be corrupted. They'd call it a… _a house of ill repute_."

"Anne…"

" _A house of ill repute_ ," she repeated dramatically.

" _Anne_ -"

"Well its true!" Anne said, looking into his eyes. "Where would I go? What would I do? I've heard of homes for unwed mothers," she went on, shakily. "Sort of like orphanages. But for girls who've gotten themselves into _trouble_ …it seemed so _scandalous_ to me. Imagine _going_ to one... I wonder if you're supposed to keep the baby? Do you _have_ to keep it? Do they even _let_ you keep it? Maybe they take it away, since you weren't supposed to have it…But then what? Would it go to an orphanage?"

Anne looked conflicted, biting her lip. "I don't think I could be it's…it's _mother_. I couldn't do it, I just _couldn't_."

Tears came into her eyes. "But if I _wasn't_ , then it would be an orphan, _too_ , with _nobody_! How could I leave it like that? Even if I don't _want_ it? How _could_ I? What if it went to people just like the Hammonds? And it would be my _fault_ -"

" _None_ of this has ever been _your_ fault," Gilbert cut her off, his tone serious- seeing that this stream of consciousness was getting worse and worse, he felt that he really should have put a stop to it sooner. "Look, Anne, I think it's incredibly unselfish of you to be concerned about the welfare a baby you don't even want- and that you have every right _not_ to want. It just shows how selfless you are. But, really, let's not get-"

"Well, don't think I'm all _that_ selfless. Once it's here, I'd look after it because I'd feel guilty if I didn't- but I'd rather it not be here in the first place. There ought to be some kind of medicine," she said rather grumpily. "Something you can take so you don't have a baby when you don't want one. It would sure make women like Mrs. Hammond feel less vexed all the time. Having babies causes a lot of people to get cross. And now I can see why."

Anne's worry nagged at her. She put her hands on her stomach. She couldn't imagine it getting bigger and bigger, swelling with new life inside of it. And she was so small, how could her tiny frame even carry it?

Gilbert knew what she was doing when he saw her place her hands on her stomach. He reached out and took her hands, to stop her from imagining it.

"Listen," he said, holding her hands and looking into her eyes. "You don't need to be worried about leaving the baby, because you're not having a baby. Okay? You're not."

"You don't know that."

"No, I suppose I don't." Gilbert finally admitted.

They were quiet a moment, her hands still resting in his.

Then Gilbert said, "Well, let's think about this. It takes nine months, right? I mean, for the whole thing?"

Anne nodded miserably.

"So…nine months after _this_ month would be..." Gilbert stopped. "But- wait, no, it isn't as if you have to wait _that_ long to find out. You'll know sooner than that."

"Yeah," Anne said unhappily. "It's there right away, but you just don't see it at first because your belly doesn't get big till later."

"When does that happen?"

"Mrs. Hammond usually started to get a belly around 3 or 4 months in, I think."

"Okay," Gilbert breathed. "So in three or four months if you haven't grown there, then you'll know it's not going to happen. You'll know for sure."

Anne looked despondent. "That's three or four months away...such an awfully long time...waiting to see if I get a belly or not. I don't know how I can bear it. And if I do, I'll be an outcast _forever_. Even if I get to stay in Avonlea, it'll all be _over_ for me. The things people will _say_ -"

"Let's go with it not happening. Because we don't think it will," Gilbert said.

"But if it _does_ …"

" _If_ it does," Gilbert continued, "Then we will figure out a way to cope with that."

Anne looked at him with tears in her eyes, thinking that he couldn't truly understood how desperate this situation could be for a young girl in a small town. "People already don't like me, Gilbert. If they think I'm a...a…a _ruined_ _woman_ -"

He was still holding her hands; now he squeezed them. "I'll be your witness, Anne. To the Cuthberts and anyone else in this town who dares to judge you. I won't let anybody think you're some kind of harlot. I promise."

A couple of tears slipped out of Anne's eyes. "I don't see how we could _stop_ anybody from thinking that. Once they see a girl my age who's getting bigger and bigger-"

"Anne, Anne," Gilbert cut her off gently, "Let's not borrow trouble, OK? One thing at a time. What else do you know about this? Is there a way to tell- I mean a way to tell _before_ it becomes plain to see?"

"Well…Mrs. Hammond always got sick. Long before her belly ever got big. She'd be sick an awful lot. Almost every morning."

"Sick how? Fever, chills?"

"No. No, you know, like retching. Always in the mornings," Anne explained. "It went on for weeks…sometimes months…that's how you'd know you were going to have a baby, before anyone else could see…and then, soon after that, that's when you get a belly, and then _everyone_ would know you were going to have a baby." Anne's voice shook.

Gilbert asked, "Have _you_ been sick in the mornings?"

"No," Anne said. But then she thought... "I _have_ gotten sick though. Not in the mornings, but at night. Sometimes…when I'm lying in bed trying to sleep, and I can't stop thinking of Billy, and I just feel sick and I..."

"That's different," Gilbert cut in, not wanting to let her know how sad it made him that she was lying awake at night feeling sick to her stomach. "That's not getting sick from a baby, that's getting sick from Billy."

"But what if that's _why_ expecting ladies get sick? Because they're remembering what _happened_ to them to make the baby? Maybe that's why they feel sick every morning, because every morning they have to wake up and remember what happened and realize it wasn't just a bad dream…" Anne's voice trailed off, but then-

"Oh, God." Anne suddenly said, taking the Lord's name in vain for the first time in her entire life.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, surprised.

"It would be Billy's." Anne whispered, staring straight ahead.

"All this time…all this time I kept thinking, What if I have a baby? What if _I_ have a baby? _My_ baby. …It didn't occur to me that it would be _Billy's_ …"

Before Gilbert could respond to that, Anne said "I think I'm going to be sick."

She rushed out of her little house.

Gilbert got up to follow her.

"No," she said, hoarsely. "Don't follow me."

Gilbert hesitated but hung back.

He could hear her retching. He waited a few minutes, not knowing what to do.

Finally Anne came back in and sat down, her knees drawn to her chest. Her face was white and her hands were shaking.

"Stay here," Gilbert said, and quickly left with his jar of milk.

He dumped it out, wasting all his milk, and quickly filled the jar with cold water from the clean, clear stream.

He took it to Anne, who drank almost all of it, her throat parched.

Once she'd drank all she could, Gilbert dipped his handkerchief into the remaining water and then, leaning over, touched it to her face. "Hey. Here. It'll be okay." He breathed as he stroked her ashen face with the wet cloth.

If Anne was surprised by his touch, she didn't show it. She let her head fall back against the boards behind her and tried to keep her breath steady and the wave of nausea down.

When Gilbert finished, he just stayed, sitting by her side, holding the cold cloth to her forehead.

They were quiet for a long time.


	64. To Avoid Accusation

"Anne," Gilbert spoke up, finally. "I hate to disturb you."

Anne opened her eyes. It was so cold out, but somehow she was sweating.

"School would be out, now. The sun's getting low. I best walk you home."

Anne sat up and began gathering up her things.

"Are you still nauseated?" Gilbert asked, helping her.

"No," she said, her voice still hoarse. "I'm all right."

They walked to the end of the woods till they came to the edge of the meadow.

"Remember not to tell them Mr. Phillips let school out early," he said. "Or they'll wonder where you were."

"I know," Anne said.

Gilbert was studying her face, concerned.

Anne's tired face looked far older than her tender years, right now.

They stared at each other for a moment, each deep in their own thoughts.

Then Gilbert said, "Why don't you just go ahead in right now and tell them? Just one fail swoop and it's over. It'll be quick."

"…Maybe."

"If you can't do it right when you walk through the door, then try to get it over with before you go to bed tonight. …Think how much easier tomorrow might be, if they know today."

She looked unsure.

He took out his list. "At least take my list of reasons with you," he said, placing it in her hands. "And…I have another one to add."

"What is it?" Anne asked, biting her lip.

"The possibility of a baby." He quickly rushed on, "Anne, I _don't_ think it will happen and I _don't_ think you should worry about it."

Anne looked down. "You must, or you wouldn't be telling me this."

"I'm not saying it because I'm worried. I'm saying it because _you're_ worried…because you _are_ , right?"

Anne nodded slowly.

"I just don't want anything bad to happen," Gilbert said, "If there's going to be a baby, I think it will be easier for you, in the long run, if Miss Cuthbert knows about this quickly, so she won't _accuse_ you of…"

This was leading to something serious, and the word "accuse" made Anne feel sick to her stomach.

He took a deep breath. "The thing is, Anne…you talked about intimate relations at school. It spread like wildfire. Miss Cuthbert wasn't welcome in the ladies' club because the other women thought you were corrupt."

He stopped, then went on, treading carefully: "There's…there's been some…public perceptions of your purity. I'm _sure_ Miss Cuthbert doesn't believe it, but…this idea has already been put into her head…well, it might be all too easy for her to assume the public was _right_ in thinking you have these frequent indiscretions _."_

Anne's eyes closed, pain in her chest. "But if there's no baby, then there's no need to tell her _at all_. So I want to know if there _is_ one first…"

"No…I don't know quite how to say this, Anne. I believe the timing here is crucial. If you tell her _before_ it's possible to know if there's a baby, then she will know that intimate relations only happened _**one**_ _time_ , and now you're waiting to see if anything resulted from it, and she'll be waiting with you, understanding that a baby would be a natural outcome of that. But if you _wait_ to tell her, if you _wait_ until you know for _sure_ that there's a baby, well…I'm afraid…" He bit his lip, finally coming to the point: "She _could_ think you've been having these indiscretions all along, and once it became clear a baby was on the way, then you had to invent a story about being attacked in order to shift the blame."

When she didn't say anything, he repeated himself: "Do you see how that could look? Telling her you're expecting a baby, and then trying to tell her ' _oh, months ago I was attacked'_. …She may think you're just trying to avoid admitting to things you've been doing all along."

Anne refused to look at him, her eyes glassy with held back tears.

He squeezed her gloved hand. "Anne, I'm not criticizing you. Listen to me. I _believe_ you. I just want to make sure _she_ believes you, too. If you tell Miss Cuthbert _before_ it's even possible to know about a baby, then she won't think you're just suddenly making up a story to explain why a baby's on the way."

"I never thought of that."

He squeezed her hand again. "Tell them now."


	65. What We Can Control

As Anne came into the house, she imagined herself marching into the kitchen and saying to Marilla, "Marilla, I have something to tell you. It's very important, and I need help. Now, I don't want to upset you, but something bad has happened, and…"

But it was no use.

After dinner- well, after sitting with Matthew and Marilla for dinner, as Anne hardly ate anything- she went upstairs to work on her math problems from that morning.

Something about not being able to tell Marilla or Matthew made her even more determined to get all her school work perfect.

She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, she couldn't control her feelings or her memories….she felt that school work was something she _could_ control.

She was determined to be the perfect student.

And if she could throw herself into her school work, she wouldn't have to think about what had happened.

Matthew came upstairs to say goodnight to her, since she had never come back down after dinner.

"Busy studying?" He asked, leaning in the doorway.

Anne looked up from her book. "I need to catch up in math. I'm behind the others."

Matthew came in. "Do you need help?"

Anne shook her head. "I think I got it," she said. "It's just a lot to do."

But she sighed and put her pencil down.

"Do you have to finish it for tomorrow?"

"No…it isn't homework. We did it during class; Mr. Phillips had us work on the problems with partners. My...partner...already turned in our paper. I just wanted to work more on it by myself. You know, to keep practicing. I want to make sure I do really well in math."

Matthew smiled. "You're a good girl, Anne," and he leaned over and gave her a kiss on top of her head. "Sweet dreams. Don't stay up too late."

"I won't," Anne said. "Maybe I better stop for tonight. Goodnight, Matthew."


	66. Made New

The next morning when Anne woke up she found the ground covered in white.

She rushed down the stairs, still in her nightdress, and opened the front door wide.

"Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed. "Isn't it absolutely _breathtaking_?"

Marilla rushed over and shut the door in Anne's face. "Child, you'll catch your death. Go straight back upstairs and get dressed."

"But I didn't get a good smell of it, yet," Anne protested, pulling the door open again.

Marilla shut the door a second time, saying, "What on earth are you talking about? Snow doesn't have a smell."

"Oh, but it does!"

With Marilla blocking the door, Anne went immediately to the nearest window, yanked it open, and stuck her head outside.

"Here, Marilla, come and stick your head out the window! I promise you'll smell it if you do."

"I will do no such thing," Marilla said firmly, coming after her and shutting the window. "Straight upstairs. Now."

Anne didn't mind Marilla's lack of enthusiasm over the glorious landscape. She was too exhilarated to let anything dampen her mood.

She felt as if the new-fallen snow had been a gift from God to her this morning.

It covered every surface with it's lovely, pure perfection and made all things new.


	67. Angels

Anne's pace to the woods was quicker today, and not because of the cold.

She had a bounce in her step.

"Most gracious Heavenly Father," she sang out loudly, "How ever did you think of the idea for _snow_? Did the angels help?"

Then she had a lovely thought and asked, "Do they scatter it from their wings?"

She stooped down and gathered up a handful of snow and threw it up in the air. She tilted her face up to the sky and felt the snow falling over her.

 _They're angel's kisses_ , she thought happily.

"Hello," Gilbert said, smiling as he approached her.

"Good morning, Gilbert!" She said, smiling at him.

It was her old smile, the one that seemed to have gone into hibernation.

Today it was back with all its glory.

"Good morning," he said, his smile looking to her just like the sunrise.

"I take it things went well yesterday?" he asked.

She stopped. "Well- no-" she began smacking her gloves to get the caked snow off. "I didn't tell them."

Gilbert had a brief look of disappointment cross his face, but quickly replaced it with a smile. "You're feeling better, though?"

"Yes," she said. "How could anyone not be gloriously happy when the angels have seen fit to bless us with fairy dust from heaven?"

Gilbert laughed. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he loved her for it.

They continued on their way to school. Today they wouldn't be late.

 _The snow covered everything up_ , Anne thought.

 _It covered the dirty ground, and everything that happened on it._


	68. Bosom Friends

There wasn't time to talk to Diana before class, but when she sat down next to her, Diana gave her a smile. Anne smiled back.

Diana had promised to eat lunch with her today, so at least she knew lunch time would be better than before.

When lunchtime came, Anne waited to get her basket from the cloak room until after she saw Billy leave it.

She hated that she had to constantly be aware of where Billy was at any moment of the day. She didn't want to think about him, she didn't even want to _look_ at him. But she had no choice. Having to watch Billy to keep track of where he was, was better than accidentally running into him. This was her life now.

Once she saw that he was out of the way, she went to get her lunch.

When she came back, she saw that Diana was talking to the girls in their lunch corner.

"She's my friend, Josie. And we need to give her a chance, because everyone has judged her rather harshly. She's hardly had a chance to prove herself to be a true friend."

Anne was glad Diana was still trying to get the other girls to accept her, but she wondered if that time would ever come.

When Diana came and sat down again with her, she did not look especially relieved. But she said, "Don't worry. Josie's just being stubborn. Sometimes I think she's jealous of you."

Anne's mouth dropped open. "Jealous of _me_? Why?"

"Lots of reasons," Diana said. "You're _interesting_. You're always thinking of something new and exciting, Anne. You're so much more creative than any of the rest of us, and you're a lot smarter than Josie is."

Diana smiled, "Plus, Josie hasn't got a beau, and I think she's jealous of the way Gilbert seems to be noticing you these days. No boy has paid that much attention to her yet. You know she's been waiting for it for a while now. I think she thought by this time all the boys would be falling all over themselves for her, and while they do think she's pretty, of course, they haven't exactly been fighting each other over her."

Anne flushed. "Gilbert doesn't notice me. The whole thing has been an _extreme_ misunderstanding. You all think we're…spending time together, and we most _assuredly_ are _not_."

Anne felt bad about lying to Diana. But how could she not?

Diana said, "Honestly, Anne, I hope he _isn't_ interested in you. I don't see how I can ever get you back in with the girls if he is. Ruby already cries all the time; if she thinks Gilbert is sweet on you, she'll cry until she drowns in her own tears. And Josie is awfully protective of Ruby, so if she thinks you've gotten in the way of Ruby…And of course Tillie follows whatever Josie does, so…"

Anne looked down at her food. "I wish Ruby wasn't so stuck on Gilbert. I don't see the point in mooning over boys like that."

Diana asked, "You haven't liked _anyone_?"

Anne blushed. Then she said, sounding quite a bit like Marilla, "Certainly not. I have no mind for such foolishness."

"I don't think it's _so_ foolish," Diana said with a quiet smile.

"What's the point in thinking about boys at this stage of our lives, anyway?" She said stoutly, stabbing at her food with her fork. "It'll be years before we can court or marry, and we have plenty of other things to think about. I don't plan to waste away my youth thinking about romance."

Diana smiled, not believing a word she said.

"Well, all right, so listen. The first step, I think, is to get Ruby to like you. See, I thought I could get you in with the whole group, but they present as such a united front that it seems impossible to infiltrate that."

"You sound as if you're talking about a war," Anne said sadly.

"It _is_ a battle, I suppose." Diana said. "And I'm determined to win it. So my plan is to work on Ruby first. She's sort of the gatekeeper, really, because even though Josie's the leader, Ruby is the one that everything hinges on when it comes to you, because of Gilbert. So Ruby first. I'll make her understand that there is nothing between you and Gilbert, and I'll get her to accept you."

"You really think you can?" Anne asked hopefully.

"I'm sure of it. Then, once Ruby likes you, Josie will be okay with you too. As I said, she's awfully protective of Ruby. I suppose we all are, really. And Tillie follows what Josie does, so once Josie accepts you, Tillie will too."

"What about Jane?" Anne asked, looking over at the girls in the corner.

"I haven't figured Jane out, yet." Diana said. "But I will. I think Jane is just a bit stand-offish, due to the whole _incident_. You know, what you said about Prissy. She _is_ her sister, after all."

Anne set her sandwich down, a rock in her stomach.

Diana went on, "But don't worry, once Jane sees that you meant no harm, it will all be forgiven. Jane was going to have us all over next Saturday for a little party. Not _much_ of a party, it'll only be our clique there. Parlour games and a lemon cake and everything. Her mother's going to make ice cream."

Anne felt left out. "Is it her birthday?"

"No," Diana said. "Her birthday's not for a while, yet. She could have just had us over to her house like any old day, but I think she wanted to make it a real party because-" she lowered her voice to a whisper: "she got a new dress, and if you ask me, the whole purpose of the party is to show off her new dress."

"Oh," Anne said. So not only was there a party she wasn't invited to, but it would be an occasion to show off fancy clothes, which she did not have. She felt like such an outsider she could have cried, and she wished more than anything that she could have a fancy dress and be wanted at the party.

"Her party isn't until next week, so I'll try to get you invited. I don't know if her mother will let her invite you, after what she heard going around at school, but if we can get Jane to forgive and forget, then Jane can convince her mother, and you'll be able to come."

Anne stared at Diana. Only a moment ago she'd wanted more than anything to be invited to the party.

Now it occurred to her that the party would be at Jane's house. She tried to breathe.

"Will Billy be there?" She asked.

Diana shrugged. "He might be at home during it…he'll come in to get a piece of cake, I'm sure. But I wouldn't expect that he'd actually want to stay for our party or anything. Why would he?"

Then she took a closer look at Anne, and noticed that Anne seemed out of breath.

"Why, Anne," she asked, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"What?" Anne asked, perplexed.

"You wondered if Billy would be there and you seem quite breathless at the thought! Perhaps I've been mistaken in thinking you and Gilbert were an item. Maybe it's Billy you like."

" _No_." Anne said loudly, loud enough that several students around the room looked up, startled.

"Well you _have_ been watching him a lot, lately. I don't know why it didn't occur to me before! Don't think I haven't _noticed_ you looking at him...I know he's been unkind to you, but lots of times boys tease girls they like! And he is awfully handsome really, despite being a bit of a bully sometimes."

"I do _not_ like him. And I do not find him handsome in the slightest."

"Anne, it's all right if you do. In fact, if you like Billy, it really would make it all easier, wouldn't it? If Gilbert is interested in you, even if you don't return his affections, Ruby will _still_ take it out on you, fair or not. But if you like _Billy_ , then at least she'll know you're not trying to stand in the way of her and Gilbert-"

"I have absolutely zero interest in that horrid, repulsive boy." She said decidedly, her voice actually shaking.

Diana looked concerned. "Well, all right, Anne! I just thought-"

"Diana," She interrupted, her voice still full of anger. "I'll thank you to let it drop completely. I don't care to even hear his _name_!"

Diana looked surprised, then a bit hurt. She stopped talking and began eating again.

Anne wrapped up her sandwich, knowing she could not eat anything else. She felt awful.

 _Bosom friends shouldn't have secrets_ , she thought.

Could she tell Diana?

She looked at Diana. Diana, with her doe-eyes, and her cherubic smile, and her perfect, perky hair bow. Her starched white pinafore had puffed sleeves, and her mother had been careful to iron them in just the right spot so that they draped perfectly at her shoulders.

 _No_ , Anne thought. _I cannot_ _soil_ _my dear bosom friend with such an explicit tale._

She could only imagine if Diana's _mother_ found out she had recounted to her precious daughter the events of her horrific encounter with Billy.

 _Besides,_ she thought _, if you tell one of the girls, you may as well have told all of them._


	69. See You Then

Anne was glad it was Friday.

Even though she'd gotten to eat lunch with Diana, and Billy hadn't even glanced in her direction all day, she still felt exhausted.

The snow helped, though. It really did something to lift her, and she was grateful for it.

She was slow about getting ready to leave school. Gilbert headed off to the woods, and Anne met up with him once school had mostly cleared out.

She was glad to see Gilbert.

Ignoring him at school was an unhappy thing. But it had to be done, if she was ever going to have girlfriends again.

But Anne liked being friends with Gilbert, too.

As they walked, they talked about their geography lesson, and then that conversation led to telling each other about all the places they wanted to see.

"I want to see them with my eyes, not just my mind," Anne said happily. "I feel as if I've already visited lots of places, but I won't know for _sure_ if they're like what I'm imagining, until I _see_ them. Things can sometimes be _so_ different from what you've imagined! Before I saw a diamond in real life, I always imagined a diamond to be a most beautiful lavender color. But then I saw a real diamond and I found out they're just see-through. I was so happy when I saw Marilla's amethyst broach because _that's_ what I'd imagined a diamond to look like. I know diamonds are much more valuable than amethyst, but I think amethyst is _so_ much more beautiful. I wonder if I'll ever have one. I suppose not, but if I had the money, I'd rather buy all the books I could ever read, than spend it on a stone to wear. If only I could have _both_ , though, that would be divine. But if I had to choose, I'd still choose books. After all, books can take you all over the world, and an amethyst just sits on your dress."

Gilbert liked listening to her talking. He never knew what she was going to say, and when she talked on and on- because she did talk a _lot_ \- he felt as if he were getting a tiny, precious glimpse into an endless expanse of something rather mysterious and wonderful, something he couldn't quite pinpoint, but something no one else seemed to have.

 _We aren't an item_ , Anne thought, after she'd finished talking. _That's ridiculous. And he doesn't like me, he's just being nice to me. We're friends now, but we only became friends because he wanted to help me. He's a good person. That's all it is. We can enjoy talking to each other without it being romantical! Besides, we have…we have academic discussions_ , Anne thought.

They came to the edge of the woods.

"I guess I'll see you Monday, then…" Anne trailed off, not wanting to say goodbye.

"…yeah," Gilbert agreed, looking as if he didn't want to say goodbye either.

They'd been together so much- and so bonded by necessity- that it felt as if a weekend apart would be a very long time.

They looked at each other.

Then Anne had a thought: "Do you go to church?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said, looking at her sort of surprised.

"Oh I didn't mean to say that I thought you _wouldn't_ ," she rushed to explain. "I just thought- with your father…"

"Oh. He used to go, but lately anymore he can't get out much, and now…well, with the weather beginning to turn…it's best for him to stay indoors and not venture out into the cold."

"I'm sorry he isn't doing well…" Anne said softly, biting her lip.

Gilbert said, "Thanks. I'd rather just stay with him, but…he wants me to go. So, I do."

"We'll see each other at church, then," Anne said brightly. "Of course, I suppose we can't really talk there…" she realized. "But I'll be glad to see you just the same, even if it's only from across the room, and even if it's only for a few minutes."

"Me too," he said, brightening up at the thought.

"Okay…well, I'll see you then." Anne said.

"See you," Gilbert said, and he watched her walk away.


	70. Close to Change

When Anne got home, she still felt good. The weekend was here, there'd be no more school- no more Josie, no more Ruby, no more Billy- for two whole days, she still had a short chance to see her new friend at church on Sunday, and the snow still made her feel elated. She ate dinner- and actually _ate_ this time- and then played checkers with Matthew in the parlor. She told him about her school day, and that she'd gotten a 100 on her spelling test. Everything seemed fine again.

Anne _had_ felt a strange cramping sensation in her abdomen for most of the day, but she never knew how her own body felt these days- she never knew if her pains were imagined or real. Anyway, it had been a reasonably good day, and she wasn't going to let a little stomachache upset her. She tried to ignore it and focus on what was good.

Eventually Marilla told her to go up and get ready for bed.

That evening before bed, she got cold water in her washbasin and put her underwear in it to soak.

She'd been doing this every night.

Gilbert was right when he said blood sometimes took more than just one wash to come all the way out.

The blood stain had gotten lighter and lighter each time she'd soaked it and scrubbed it, so she thought it would probably be all gone soon.

It would have come out quicker if she could let it soak a longer time, but the most she could do was soak it and scrub it for a short time each evening before bed. She couldn't leave it in there for a longer amount of time in case Marilla would see it.

Unfortunately, she had to keep wearing it, so after she'd soaked it and scrubbed it, she let it dry for a little while and put it back on. She was tired of wearing damp underwear, especially in the cold weather, but she was afraid to stop wearing them because she didn't want anything unaccounted for and she didn't want them to be found hidden anywhere.

She didn't have much time left, either- she knew Marilla was about to do the wash again on Monday, so she really needed to finish getting the blood out in the next couple days. She'd been able to avoid her petticoat and underwear going in the wash at the beginning of the week- right after the attack- but there was no way Marilla would go _another_ wash day without taking Anne's things.

Her ripped petticoat- sewn up rather badly by Gilbert- would have to go into the wash, too, and Anne would just have to tell Marilla she'd tripped and gotten it ripped. Marilla would frown at the sloppy sewing, but Anne would not tell her a boy had sewn it up for her, of course- she'd just tell Marilla that she'd sewn it up the best she could on a sprained wrist.

Anne looked at the stitches Gilbert made and smiled. They were spaced a little bit too far apart, and they weren't even, each one a bit shorter or longer than the next. But, even though the petticoat was full of bad memories, it made her smile that Gilbert had tried so hard for her.

Anne waited for her underwear to get reasonably dry, and then she went to bed. She had forgotten to say her prayers.


	71. Becoming a Woman

I know there was this scene in the show, where Anne gets her period and Marilla wakes up to find her freaking out that she's dying, because she doesn't know what a period is.

But obviously my scene will go a little bit differently, since Anne's had this other experience that influences what she's thinking too now.

Also, I didn't want to just copy off the real script so I am making up what they say.

* * *

Anne woke up slowly, not even sure at first what exactly it was that had woken her. It was still the middle of the night.

She realized she felt as if she'd wet the bed. Why was she sleeping in a puddle? Her legs felt sticky. It wasn't urine, she realized. What was it?

She lifted the covers and looked down.

Blood.

A _lot_ of blood.

 _Why?_ She thought frantically.

She pushed the covers off and they fell on the floor. She stared down at her lap.

Was this something to do with Billy? She had bled when Billy had been there; was she bleeding again because of what _he'd_ done? Was this something that was just going to repeat itself time and again? And if so, for how long? Was there any way to stop it? _Wasn't the first time enough?_ She thought, tears already forming. Why did it have to happen _again_?

There was even more blood this time than there had been from Billy. She tried not to cry.

Was it something about a baby? Was this some sign of a baby that Anne hadn't heard of before? She frantically tried to think of the various women she'd lived with and if they had ever mentioned anything about blood being a sign of expecting a baby, but she couldn't remember.

Or maybe it wasn't anything to do with Billy or a baby at all, maybe she was just bleeding from the inside out because she was dying of some horrible disease that she never knew she had. Maybe God was even punishing her.

She got quickly out of bed, before it could soak into her sheets.

She didn't know what to do.

 _I almost had all the blood washed out_ , she thought desperately, _And now there's so much more..._

What could she do? She couldn't just wash it in her washbasin, it was just too _much_. And she could tell it was still coming.

Marilla and Matthew both woke up to the kitchen pump creaking and water splashing and general crashing in the kitchen.

Marilla got there before Matthew.

She walked in on Anne standing at the pump scrubbing furiously.

"What on earth?!" Marilla cried, setting her candle down.

Anne didn't look up. She just kept scrubbing, while saying, her voice full of restrained panic:

"Marilla, I want to thank you for your hospitality toward me these past few months, and I would be _exceptionally_ grateful to you if you would please invest in a beautiful white dress to bury me in?"

" _Bury_ you in?" Marilla exclaimed.

"I know it would be a terrible extravagance to spend all that money on someone who's just lying there _dead_ , but it would mean _so_ much to me if you _would_."

"Anne-"

"One with puffed sleeves, preferably…but, seeing as I'll be dead anyway, I suppose I won't mind _very_ much if they're not." Anne was crying.

Marilla rushed over to her, "Anne, whatever is the matter?"

She looked down and saw Anne's bloody underwear in the sink.

Just then Matthew walked in.

"What's going on-" he said, looking down into the sink.

"Out," Marilla stated firmly, turning him around and giving him a push.

Matthew went quickly, knowing he was out of his element.

Marilla turned back to Anne.

"Anne, calm down, it will be all right," Marilla said.

Anne held up the scrub brush and sobbed. "How can you _say_ that? I think I might be _dying_. And if I'm _not_ dying, then I've got a fate _worse_ than death anyway! This is it for me, Marilla. I only wish I'd known you and Matthew longer! I'll miss you so much! …And would you please ask Diana to come visit my grave, and maybe try to get her to weep there?"

Marilla turned off the pump and took the scrub brush away from Anne and set it down. "To weep there?" she asked, confused.

"I just think I'd feel better about being dead if I knew that there was a raven-haired beauty sitting over top of my grave and weeping tragically."

"Oh, Anne," Marilla said. "Come here."

She sat down in a kitchen chair and pulled Anne close. "You're not dying."

"I'm not?" Anne asked, wiping at the tears running down her face.

"No, you're not. It's just Mother Nature visiting you, that's all." She smoothed Anne's hair out of her eyes.

"What? Why?" Anne cried.

"Because you're growing up into a young woman," Marilla wiped Anne's cheeks tenderly. "A _lovely_ one. And women have gone through this since the beginning of time. It's _completely_ normal, Anne. It's just one of those changes that happens as you're becoming a woman. It's…it's the way a woman's body prepares itself for babies."

Anne stared at her. Marilla seemed awfully calm about telling Anne her body was preparing itself to have a baby.

"It's a little blood, yes, but it will go away in a few days. It's nothing you need to worry over."

"But…" Anne didn't know what to say. She felt confused. Wasn't Marilla _angry_? Didn't she have _questions_?

"You'll have these once a month now. It's perfectly normal and healthy-"

"Every month?!" Anne asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say," Marilla said, "I've got new linen, tomorrow I'll do the laundry and then we'll cut the linen and I'll show you how to fold it into sanitary napkins. You'll need to change them frequently. For tonight you can just use a clean rag, I'll find one for you right now. And you might be feeling some cramps-"

" _That's_ what I've been feeling all day," Anne realized. "I didn't _know_ it was to get ready for a _baby_ …"

Marilla patted her hand. "Well, you see? It's not a terrible thing, and you're certainly not dying. Far from it. I know you're a bit frightened and that's to be expected, but why don't you try to think of it as a happy occasion? You're becoming a woman."

Anne felt like she was in shock. Marilla seemed to be taking this extremely well.

Marilla gave her the clean rags and said, "Come on, back to bed then. I'll leave these things in the sink to soak and take care of them in the morning."

Anne stared at her like a deer in the headlights and then went back upstairs in shock. _Marilla said this is how a woman's body prepares itself to have a baby, and…she isn't angry? She didn't even seem surprised that it was happening..._

Anne got back in bed, but she didn't sleep.


	72. Misunderstanding

Anne did not come downstairs until it was just past lunch time.

Marilla didn't want to wake her, thinking she probably needed extra sleep.

When Anne finally came downstairs, she was still in her nightgown.

Her face was red and puffy.

Marilla looked startled. "I thought you were tired, but...have you been crying?"

Anne didn't answer her. She plopped down at the table with a glass of milk.

She didn't drink it, though.

She put her head down on the table, resting it on her arms.

"Anne?"

Anne put her head up. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?" Marilla asked.

"I'm as well as can be expected under the circumstances," Anne said, trying to sound brave.

Marilla had no idea what that meant.

"Well, I let you sleep half the day away, but I figured you needed it. I'm glad you're up now, though. I was beginning to worry."

"Marilla, I don't know what to do..." Anne said.

She meant she didn't know what to do about her life in general, now that Marilla had told her she was going to have a baby, but Marilla took her statement as meaning she didn't know what to do _today_.

"You should stay in, and work on finishing all your school work for Monday," Marilla said.

"We don't have any," Anne said absently. Then she said, her voice sad, "Besides, I don't see the point in me going back to school."

Marilla looked at her strangely. "What do you mean?"

Anne responded, "I'll have to stop going, won't I? I'll have…" She sighed. "…I'll have obligations to attend to."

"What are you talking about? What obligations?"

"The baby," Anne said miserably, "I'll have to stay home and take care of it. It'll be my obligation. I'll have to change its dirty diapers and do piles of laundry for it, and listen to it wailing and fussing all the time…School is over for me."

"I do feel rather _sorry_ for it, the poor little tad," she went on, "It'll be a hard lot in life, to have a mother who views it as an obligation." She sighed.

Then she took a deep breath, her resolve forming. "But as I know _exactly_ how it feels to be unwanted, I've made up my mind that I mustn't _show_ my devastation. I mustn't let it _know_ it's just an obligation. I'll have to imagine very hard that I'm happy to have it, so that the poor little thing won't have to know it was _unwelcome_."

Marilla was already confused, but now she was staring at Anne like she had two heads. "Anne, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

Anne's eyes were downcast. "The one you said…you said last night that that was something that happens to your body to get prepared for a baby…"

Marilla stared at her. She looked incredibly flustered. "Oh, Anne…oh my goodness, no. _No_. I meant _someday_. Your…your body does this to prepare for having a baby _someday_. My goodness, have you been crying all night thinking you were going to have a _baby_?!"

Anne nodded miserably.

"Oh, dear," Marilla said, looking flustered and like she didn't know what to do. She reached out to Anne and put her hands on her shoulders. "Oh dear. I'm sorry Anne. I had no idea there'd been such a misunderstanding or I would have corrected it right then and there. No, you are _not_ having a baby."

"I'm not?"

"Why, no, of course not!" Marilla exclaimed.

Anne looked hopeful. "Are you _sure_? Are you absolutely, positively _sure_ I'm not having a baby now?"

"Yes of course! That can't happen until you're _married_."

Anne stared at Marilla's face, helplessly. Her shoulders slumped. "Oh. Married. What you _really_ mean is not till you've had intimate rela-"

"Yes," Marilla said, stopping her. "Yes, that's _exactly_ what I mean. But saying ' _until you're married'_ will suffice, if you don't mind! I'll thank you not to repeat the words 'intimate relations' again. The entire town has heard _quite_ enough from you on _that_ subject." She looked serious. "But yes, if you _must_ put it that way- you cannot have a baby unless you've had intimate relations, and you haven't of course, so you've no need to worry."

"Oh," Anne said glumly, a weight in her chest.

Not knowing what to say, she asked, "Marilla, do you mind if I go out in the snow?"

"Why, I thought you'd be _relieved_ , Anne. You look even worse! You look as though you're about to cry."

"I'm just tired. _May_ I go out in the snow? It'll wake me up."

"It's so cold."

"Please? I'll dress warmly, I promise. And I'll keep warm out there, too. I'll run around. The snow will make me so happy…" Far from happy, she looked as if she might cry.

"All right," Marilla said. "But come back in soon."

* * *

Note: I know it's probably frustrating that I keep holding off on Marilla knowing…I'm not trying to string you along or anything, I'm sorry if it feels that way…it's just that there are still several things I want to happen in the story before the news comes out. There are things that happen between her and Gilbert, there are things that happen at school, things with Billy (although I don't want to think much about Billy, I decided that for the story's sake I wanted to attempt to write some from his perspective), and there are some other things that Anne kind of needs to reconcile in her mind first before the news is out.

But I actually just finished writing the chapter where Marilla knows. It won't happen for a little while but it IS written now!

And I decided that I couldn't write a chapter about Anne talking to Marilla until I'd done the same thing...I went to my parents and told them what happened. I had never told anyone about it (except for you through this story). Now I wish I'd spoken up sooner but I just couldn't, but writing about Anne talking about it to Marilla gave me the push I needed so I did it. And it went really well.


	73. Make Some Cheer

_I've got to do something to distract myself_ , she decided. _And if I do end up with a baby, I've got to do all the playing I can do, before it's too late for me to have any fun._

Anne was disappointed that the snow wasn't the right consistency for making a snow man. _I wish it was packing snow_ , she thought. _If it was packing snow I could make a snowman. And I could make snowballs._ But then she sighed. _It doesn't matter,_ she thought. _I don't have anyone to throw snowballs at anyway._

She decided to make snow angels. But she only got about halfway laying down on the ground before she felt the most alarming sense of panic. _I can't_ , she thought, her throat closing. _I can't lay down on the ground_. And she got quickly up, breathing hard.

She stood there a moment, trying to calm down and breathe.

She'd had no idea that sudden panic would overtake her if she tried laying on the ground, and it was an upsetting thing to her, since she was used to relishing in the nature around her, wonderfully at home rolling among the grass. Now, she could not bring herself to lie on the ground. It was something else that had been taken from her, and she wondered if she would ever get it back.

Once the wave of panic settled itself, she began walking through the snow, to write huge letters by making lines with her boots. She walked in the shape of a cursive A, and continued in an N and another N, and finally a cursive E. Then she walked farther away so she could stand back and look at what she'd written. Each letter was even taller than she was, and seeing her name written so big and bold made her feel braver.

Then she thought, _Now_ _I'll make a face_. She walked in a big circle, creating a line in the snow with her boots, and then jumped as far she could into the middle of it, to make a dent in the snow where an eye should be. She nearly lost her balance and it made her laugh.

She jumped again, as far as she could to the other side of the circle. _Now it's got two eyes_ , she thought. _Now it needs a nose._ And she hopped down to where the nose would be.

When she tried to jump further down, to start on the mouth, she tripped and fell forward, her face going right into the snow. She laughed again and tried to hop down again, this time making it. She walked in a semi circle, her boots scuffling through the snow to make a mouth.

Then she jumped as far as she could, to get outside the circle. She turned around and looked at her results. The eyes and nose looked all right, but there was a line from the nose to the mouth, where she'd fallen. _That's all right,_ she thought, _it's nose is running._ The thought made her laugh. But then her own nose began to run, so she went back inside.

Marilla was waiting for her with a cup of cocoa.


	74. Sick Days

WOW! Only 2 weeks ago, I was amazed that I had 57 followers on this story, but now today there are 78…gaining 21 more followers in just a 2 weeks period…I am amazed and humbled…thank you so much!

* * *

Saturday passed uneventfully, but Anne's sleep schedule was all mixed up due to being awake so long on Friday and sleeping past lunch time on Saturday, so Saturday night she couldn't sleep at all and Sunday she slept too much.

Marilla didn't make her go to church Sunday, thinking she was getting sick. Anne _wanted_ to go, hating to not see Gilbert after they'd talked about seeing each other, but Marilla made her stay home and told her not to get out of bed while they were gone. When Matthew and Marilla came home, Anne wanted to ask if they'd seen Gilbert, but of course she couldn't.

On Monday morning she didn't wake up, and Marilla had to come up and get her. But when she woke Anne, she found her feverish, her voice raspy and her throat swollen.

"I'll keep you home," she decided. "If I send you out, you'll only get sicker. It's so cold out."

"Marilla, I _have_ to go," Anne said, her throat scratchy.

"Why, so you can get worse? No, you stay right where you are. I'll bring up some tea and porridge, and then you must rest."

Anne helplessly watched her leave the room. What could she do? Gilbert would be standing at the edge of the woods, in the cold, waiting on her.

Maybe if she acted like she was fine, she could convince Marilla that she wasn't really that sick after all.

She washed her face, got dressed, and combed her hair.

She went downstairs quickly, where Marilla was making oatmeal. She looked up at Anne as she came down.

"What do you think you're doing?" Marilla asked sharply, when she saw her.

"I'm all _right_ , Marilla. I can go to school!" Anne argued.

"Anne, I can barely hear you, your voice is terribly hoarse. Go back upstairs, get back in your nightgown and into bed!"

"But Marilla, I-"

"What did I just tell you?" Marilla asked, her eyebrows raised.

"But-"

" _What_ did I just tell you?" Marilla repeated herself.

Anne gave up. "...to go to bed."

"Then where should you be?"

"...in bed." Anne sighed, exasperated.

"Then go. And not another word." Marilla sounded just as exasperated.

Anne stomped up the stairs, frustrated that she couldn't do anything. She undressed and got back into bed, feeling terrible that Gilbert was getting cold in the snow waiting on her.

She'd feel even worse on Tuesday morning, because Marilla would keep her home again, and that meant Gilbert would be standing in the snow waiting for her twice. She hoped _he_ wouldn't get sick.


	75. Gilbert Waiting

Gilbert waited a long time- long past when he should have, and he knew he'd be late to school.

Anne wasn't coming to school, and she hadn't been at church…he wondered if she'd told the Cuthberts' about what had happened with Billy. Maybe they were keeping her home now because of it.

He hoped that if that _was_ the case, that they were keeping her home out of concern for her and not as punishment…he'd told her they wouldn't be angry with her, and he hoped he was right.

She wasn't in school the next day, either.

He wondered when he would see her again.


	76. Reunion

On Wednesday morning Marilla decided Anne was well enough to go to school.

But by this point, Anne didn't want to go. She thought Gilbert would have given up on her by now, and she'd have to walk through the woods alone.

She got dressed and ate her breakfast slowly, thinking that maybe if she was very slow, she'd be late to school and no one would still be in the woods or fields surrounding school when she finally walked through them. She knew Mr. Phillips would be mean to her if she came in late, but facing him was better than possibly running into Billy before class started.

But as she got to the woods, Gilbert came out of the trees, rubbing his hands together in the winter chill.

He saw her positively light up when she saw him.

"Gilbert!" She said.

Gilbert grinned at her.

Anne could have hugged him- but didn't. She just smiled so big that Gilbert was exceedingly glad he'd waited for her.

"Hi, Anne," he said, his smile looking to her like the sunrise.

"Hi!" She said.

Then for a moment neither of them could talk. They just laughed, both happy.

"You've been-" he began, just as _she_ said, "You waited-"

They both laughed again.

"You first," he said as they began walking.

"You waited for me out in the snow even though I've been gone two days…I could've been gone today, too, but here you are! You didn't have to do that. I'd have understood _completely_ if you didn't come for me anymore." But then she said, "But I am really, really, really glad you did."

Gilbert smiled, looking down. "I'd wait all week," he said. "And longer. But I'm glad you're back. What happened?"

"I was sick. I wasn't even _that_ sick, but Marilla wouldn't let me go out."

"Sick, like…?" Gilbert began, remembering their discussion about morning sickness.

Anne blushed. "No, not like what we were talking about before. I still don't know about _that_. But I haven't gotten sick that way. Hopefully I never will."

He nodded. "You're better, though?"

"I just had a fever and a sore throat, it's gone now. Thank you for waiting, I hope you haven't been frozen to death every morning out here."

"I'm all right," he said, shaking his head. "Glad to see you."

"What did I miss at school?" She asked him.

"Well, let's see. We got our new spelling list for the week, but I noticed Diana copying them down twice, so she was probably making a list for you, too. And we're having a geography test this Friday- but since you've read our entire textbook at least three times, you should be ok," he said to her, smiling.

Then he laughed, "Oh, and Moody got in trouble for writing a dirty word on the blackboard. I'm sorry not to tell you what it was, but I don't think I ought to repeat it. But the funny thing is, he didn't _mean_ to do it, he was actually trying to write a different word- a regular word- and misspelled it. It was just his poor luck that when it was misspelled it became a dirty word. But Mr. Phillips didn't believe him and he had to write lines at recess."

Anne laughed. "Poor Moody," she said.

Gilbert looked at her, smiling. "I'm really glad you're back. I bet the girls will be, too. Maybe having you gone a couple of days will make them realize what they're missing."

They came up to the school building.


	77. Overheard

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Diana said once lunchtime came. "Jane said she was considering inviting you to her party, because I wanted so much for you to be there, but that her mother wouldn't let her. Mrs. Andrews is still furious about what you said." Diana looked so upset that Anne felt sorry for _her_ instead of feeling sorry for herself.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Anne said with a sigh, "Once the words escaped my lips they darkened my horizons and will haunt me even to my grave."

Diana put her hand on Anne's arm comfortingly.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Anne. It's…it's just the rudest thing I could have done, mentioning a social event in the presence of someone who wasn't invited. I only brought up the party because I felt so _sure_ we'd be able to get an invitation arranged for you by now!" She said, shaking her head, "Getting you made right with the girls is taking a _lot_ longer than I thought it would."

"It's weighing heavily on my mind," Anne said, "But I've got other worries, too, and this isn't the worst of them." Seeing that Diana felt terrible, Anne tried to sound positive. "It's all right, Diana. I know you tried."

Diana held her chin up. "I won't go, either. I'll stay home, and- I have an idea! Why don't you come over on Saturday? We'll have our own party. Just the two of us. I'll make tarts, and I'll think of games that only need two players, and it won't be a fancy dress affair so you won't have to feel bad that you don't have one…" She trailed off, looking awkward.

Anne shook her head. "Thank you, Diana, but I don't want you to miss Jane's party. Truly. It would make me most sorrowful to think of you missing the occasion on my account. No, you go and have a splendorous time with the girls. Don't worry about me. …I didn't want to go to Jane's house, anyway."

"I don't mind, Anne, really I don't-"

"I'm sure your mother wouldn't approve of you accepting an invitation to a party and then not showing up because you found something else to do," Anne pointed out.

"You're right. She'd say cancelling plans with one person to go spend time with another person shows a deplorable lack of etiquette." She sighed. "I guess it wouldn't have worked anyway. She's still not quite on board with us being friends, due to the whole…." She lowered her voice: "… _mouse_ _incident_."

Anne didn't know what she was talking about at first.

The 'mouse in the pocket' phrase had disappeared from her vocabulary entirely, as she had been made to understand what intimate relations _actually_ entailed.

So it was a moment before what Diana meant by that 'clicked'.

Once she realized, she said, rather tiredly, "Oh, yeah, about intimate relations-"

"Shhhh!" Diana exclaimed, looking terrified. "Anne!"

Prissy wasn't near enough to have heard, but Jane and Billy were both sitting closer to where Anne and Diana were sitting.

Jane looked up quickly, hearing exactly what Anne had said. She looked at Anne with no expression whatsoever, but then turned to Josie and began whispering furiously.

Anne knew that even if Jane _had_ extended an invitation to her party after all, it would surely have been rescinded at this very moment.

She was afraid to look at Billy, but she forced herself to. She hoped he hadn't heard- although Jane had, so Billy would eventually be told, if he hadn't heard already.

But he had.

His eyes met hers, and for nearly an entire minute, their eyes were locked to each other's.

It felt as if neither could look away.

Billy's eyes held an expression Anne could not put into words. He didn't look angry, exactly…she couldn't explain _what_ it was.

She didn't know what her own eyes looked like at that moment, but she guessed they looked afraid.

Diana looked back and forth between them, looking at each other.

After almost a whole minute of agonizing eye contact, they finally broke away- Anne felt a slight shudder go through her and she looked away from him suddenly, and then Billy ducked his head, turning away from her.

Anne suddenly thought, _I wonder if Gilbert heard me_ … She looked over at him.

Gilbert and Moody were bent over a book, unaware of what had just happened; Gilbert was going over their spelling words with Moody.

When Anne looked away from Gilbert, she caught Billy's eyes again- he, too, had looked over at Gilbert at the same moment, to see if Gilbert was paying attention to them.

Diana was watching Billy. "What was that all about?"

"Billy heard what I said," Anne told her, under her breath. "What I just said. About…. _you_ _know_."

Diana frowned. "I know, but…"

"What?!" Anne asked.

Diana shrugged. "I don't know. I thought he'd be mad, but…he was just looking at you weird."

Anne shook herself out of the moment. "I don't know what you mean. He looked the same as he always looks: Abhorrent."

Diana smiled a bit. "Are you _sure_ you don't like him?"

" _No_ …I _don't_. Please stop thinking that."

Diana looked at her as if she thought Anne might just be acting coy.

Anne said, looking like she could cry, "I _mean_ it, Diana. It's _really_ bothering me. I don't want anything to do with him."

Diana nodded. "All right. I promise, I believe you."

"Thank you," Anne said, but her eyes were on Billy.


	78. Reaction

Billy didn't know what to do. He just stared at her.

She'd said intimate relations…right in the middle of the school room.

She was talking about Prissy again.

Had she seen _more_? He didn't want to think of Prissy doing something like that, especially with their teacher.

But he felt he had to know what Anne had seen. …Fido. Whatever.

 _He'd_ seen Prissy and Mr. Phillips kiss almost a week ago, now, but he _still_ hadn't done anything about it or told anyone. …He just didn't know what to do about it.

But after what he'd seen, he now knew that Anne wasn't spreading lies…there was some kernel of truth to what she had said.

It made him uncomfortable to know that he had done…well, _that_ …to her, if what she'd said was actually _true_.

He didn't feel _regretful_ , exactly- After all, even if what she said was true, she still shouldn't have said it, and he _had_ to get her to stop talking about Prissy.

But then he had another thought, this one even more disturbing to him: Maybe when she said intimate relations she wasn't talking about Prissy. Maybe she was talking about _him_.

If she was talking about him, if she was telling the girls what he had done to her, he needed a plan. Something to discredit her. It was even more urgent that he get her to stop.

But what could he do? Gilbert was _always_ with her. There was almost no chance of catching her alone.


	79. Attempt at Clarification

Billy found his opportunity on Friday afternoon.

With Gilbert asking Mr. Phillips a question, he had a couple minutes to try to get to Anne alone. The other girls were back in their lunch corner, and Anne was sitting on the floor in the cloak room, reading by herself.

Anne was too engrossed in her geography book to hear him approach her, but once he was standing there, she saw his two boots in front of her and she stopped reading, her eyes traveling up to his.

Her heart quickened. _Do_ _ **not**_ _let him scare you_ , she told herself. _He is_ _ **nothing**_.

He didn't say anything at first, he just looked at her.

"Go away," she said, her voice tight.

He didn't. He kneeled down on the floor to be at eye level with her.

Anne couldn't breathe. He was invading her space.

"Look…what did you mean before, when…when you said you saw my sister with Mr. Phillips-"

She began to get up- and he grabbed her arm.

His touch felt like fire. "Let go of me," she said, panicked.

"Wait- I just want to know what you saw-"

"Let go of me!" She screamed, trying to jerk her arm away from his grasp.

Mr. Phillips rushed in. Gilbert was right behind him.

"What is this disturbance?" Mr. Phillips asked.

Anne was breathing hard. Billy quickly let go of her arm.

As soon as he let go, Anne scrambled up and ran back to her desk.

Mr. Phillips gave Billy a strange look, but didn't say anything to him. He went back into the room and called the class to attention.

"Class, put your lunches away. We'll start the afternoon with our geography test…"

Anne's book was still laying on the floor of the cloak room. Gilbert brought it to her.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at him.

She rubbed her arm. She could still feel Billy's touch.


	80. Closer

"What did he want?" Gilbert asked as they started to walk home after school.

Anne pulled her coat more tightly around herself. She could still feel Billy's grasp on her arm. "I don't know- he said something, but I…I couldn't pay attention." She made a frustrated noise and said, "What an abhorrent creature! I wish Marilla had let me come to school when I was sick. I could have sneezed on him or something…I want him to catch something _awful_ and have to stay out of school for weeks and _weeks_ …"

"I promise," Gilbert said solemnly, "If anyone at school gets sick, I'll do everything I can to get Billy to catch it from them."

"You're a good person, Gilbert."

Gilbert laughed.

Then Anne laughed too.

They came to the meadow.

"Well, here we are," Anne said awkwardly. "Another weekend…"

Gilbert nodded slowly. "Yeah…but hey, we still have church, right?"

Anne said, "Oh. You know, I was thinking. So you don't have to wait in the cold- if something happens, I mean- I was thinking I could close the shade. I'll leave the shade open in the morning and if I can't come to school, I'll close it." She pointed out which window was hers.

It was too far away for him to be able to see whether or not the shade was down, though. "I can come a little closer," he said.

She bit her lip. "No," she said, "On second thought, I don't think you should do this anymore. It's asking a lot of you. You've had to wake up earlier and walk over here, and it's cold now…I can't ask you to do that."

Gilbert smiled. "You _didn't_ ask me to do it. I offered."

"But you can't keep doing this _forever_. And it's not fair to you." She protested.

"Well maybe I just _like_ walking with you. Have you ever thought of that?" He smiled.

Anne looked away, trying not to smile. She felt awkward.

"Okay," she said.

Then she changed the subject. "So you'll be at church this Sunday, then? Unless your father is doing worse…"

"No, he's actually been having some really good days lately. Yeah, I'll be there, especially with it being a communion Sunday."

"It seems they have communion here a lot."

"Once a month," Gilbert said.

"Does the reverend bring it to your father?"

"No, someone from the diaconate board visits him."

"Seems like the reverend ought to do the visiting. Isn't that part of being a reverend, visiting the sick?"

Gilbert smiled, "Well, my fathers' never cared much for the reverend. Always talks about how the old one was better."

Anne said, "I have to admit I'm not too fond of him myself. He makes everything sound so _dreary_. I recognize that he's in the business of saving souls, and that's all well and good, but he reminds me of the old saying 'you'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar'. He doesn't have to make the world seem to be such a _desolate_ place. All fire and brimstone and pillars of salt! God made the world _spectacularly_ beautiful. It isn't a sin to enjoy it, is it? It _can't_ be."

"I quite agree," Gilbert said. "I'd rather see the good in the world."

They smiled at each other.


	81. Sunday Morning

Sorry it took me a few days to update, it is final exams! And I know this chapter is short but I have a few more chapters almost ready so will update more tonight.

When something bad happens to you like assault, you start to wonder, Why do bad things happen? And if there is a God, doesn't he care about you? Stuff like that.

The next few chapters are about church, because I think that will be a good place for her to start questioning those things.

I think that a long time ago- especially in small farming communities- more people went to church, even if they weren't really very religious, church was the thing to do and it was also for socialization with friends and neighbors.

* * *

On Saturday night Marilla said they'd need to leave earlier in the morning, as she and some of the other ladies were going to meet before the service to discuss the upcoming church bake sale. They'd offered to get communion ready while they talked.

"I like going to church," Anne announced as she climbed into the buggy Sunday morning.

"Good," Marilla said, giving Matthew a small smile. "That certainly makes me feel as if we're doing something right."

"I didn't expect to, because of the reverend's _entirely_ _colorless_ outlook of the earth. But it's _awfully_ good entertainment."

Marilla's moment of feeling accomplishment was gone. "Church is not meant to be _entertaining_. It's meant to be…"

"Edifying?" Anne provided, using a new word she had learned.

"Yes, that's a good way to put it."

"Well, I don't see why it can't be both. Of course I'd prefer if the sermons weren't all doom and gloom…" she trailed off, but then she continued excitedly - "But listening to him spout off at the pulpit is better than _any_ school recitation! Especially when he gets so _impassioned_ that he stomps around shouting and waving his arms-"

"Anne," Marilla interrupted, her voice full of reproach. "That is quite enough. What impertinence! To think that only a moment ago I thought we were doing well with you."

Anne frowned. "There are other reasons I like church," she insisted.

"I'm almost afraid to know," Marilla commented dryly.

"I like the singing," she said.

Marilla let her breath out. "All right," she said. " _That_ is a statement that doesn't make me weep for your future."

Marilla looked startled when Matthew chuckled.


	82. Forgive Us Our Trespasses

This is about Anne being sad at church thinking she's a lost cause. Don't worry, she will feel better later. :)

* * *

As Matthew, Marilla, and Anne filed into their pew and sat down, Anne looked over to where Gilbert sat. He gave her an inconspicuous wave and she smiled at him in return.

As church began, the sounds of the organ playing swept Anne away and made her forget.

She was especially happy that the final song before the sermon started was her new favorite: How great thou art.

Anne sang, " _Oh Lord my God,"_ She thought it would have been better if it started out "gracious heavenly father", but the song was beautiful to her, so she could overlook that part.

She went on, the words giving her goosebumps, " _When I, in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands have made…"_

Then she sang out beautifully, finding the words to be most romantical: _"I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder. Thy power throughout the universe displayed, then sings my soul…"_

When the song was over, she sat down again, feeling light and happy.

 _Now_ , she thought, _it's time for some theatrical entertainment_.

The reverend came up and began, "Today we will continue our study of the Lord's Prayer. Many of you have had questions about the fourth line, in which we are told to forgive trespasses. A question that often comes up is, what exactly does it mean for someone to trespass against us? A trespass is simply any wrongdoing or any debt owed…"

Anne wasn't listening. She hoped the reverend would become more impassioned, to make things interesting. Him droning on about what we ought to do and ought not to do was not as interesting to her as him becoming dramatic. She didn't like his gloom and doom approach to things, but at least it made the sermon exciting.

Now she was gazing around at the church, seeing if there were any new hats in the congregation. _I wish I could have a new hat. A big one, with a pink silk ribbon that ties in a bow in the back, and pink roses around the brim-_ but she stopped herself, sadly thinking that no matter how beautiful it would be, she could never wear pink due to her awful red hair.

She stopped looking at hats and began looking at the details of the stained-glass window on the wall behind the reverend. _I wonder how stained glass is made. I wonder how they turn the glass into different colors. Is it dye? I once knew someone who was a glass-blower, but I never saw him working. I wish I could see one working, it would be most thrilling to watch the glass being made. I wonder how they can cut the glass so perfectly into all those little shapes to fit together-_

The reverend's words grabbed her attention away from the stained-glass window. "In the book of Matthew we learn that if we are to be forgiven, we must also forgive others," he said.

Anne bit her lip. She was listening now.

"If we expect to enter into the glory of heaven, we must be sinless in the presence of God." The reverend stated.

 _Ok_ , Anne thought.

"And of course, no matter how much we aim for perfection, we can never truly be perfect."

 _Isn't that the truth,_ Anne agreed. _I've done ever so many wrong things_. _Nothing_ _ **too**_ _bad. But still…_

"But Christ is here to forgive us of all of our sins!"

 _Well, that's good, then_ , Anne thought.

"So that we may be considered sinless because Christ has taken our burden for us…we need only ask for His divine grace," he went on.

Anne liked the way "divine grace" sounded and filed it away in her mind for later use.

She wondered if God was keeping track of all the bad things she'd ever done, like tally marks on a blackboard. The reverend made it seem as if God could erase them, if only she'd thought to ask. She thought of when she prayed at night, as Marilla had taught her to do. Her prayers began by thanking God for things he'd given her, but she had to admit the majority of her prayers were about what she wanted God to do for her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd asked God to forgive her wrongs.

"But," the reverend went on, "It is not enough to ask Christ to forgive us for our sins. We must also be willing to forgive others for the trespasses they have committed against us. If we cannot forgive others with our whole heart, then we must not expect Christ to forgive us of our own sins."

He quoted, "Matthew writes, in chapter 6, for if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."

 _So there's a catch_ , Anne thought. Her own sins couldn't be forgiven if she refused to forgive people who'd wronged her?

She felt a rock in the pit of her stomach. She knew Billy had trespassed against her. Could she forgive him? She didn't want anything to do with him. Did forgiveness mean she had to be…all right with him? That things were just supposed to go back to how they'd been before? She didn't think she could do that.

The reverend clarified, "Forgiveness does not mean the relationship is healed. Forgiveness may not even mean a continued relationship at all. Forgiveness simply means you have released that person from owing you a debt, and that you no longer carry ill will toward them."

 _Okay_ , Anne thought, _I can do that. I don't want any relationship continued, and I don't think he owes me anything…do I? All I_ _ **really**_ _want is for him to go away and never come back. Is_ _ **that**_ _carrying ill will toward him? I mean, it isn't as if I want him to die or anything…well, I ought to be honest, I don't_ _ **always**_ _want him to die, but_ _ **some**_ _of the time I do…ugh, mostly I just want him to go_ _ **away**_ _. …Although…I suppose I_ _ **did**_ _wish him harm when I hoped he'd get very sick and stay out of school for a long time…_

She went back to listening to the reverend. "However, you must seek to see the goodness in a person underneath the evil mask, and in your heart you should want only good things for them."

 _Well, that's that, then- I'm done for._ Anne thought sadly. Knowing she couldn't do it, she let her attention wander over to the stained-glass window again. It was a picture of Jesus surrounded by children. They all looked happy.

 _I won't be there_ , Anne thought rather dejectedly. _Because I won't be forgiven until I forgive Billy, and I_ _ **can't**_ _do it. …I can get on board with the part about not wishing any ill will toward him, I think…I'm not even quite sure if I can manage that, but I can try…but as for the part about seeing the goodness in a person…and wanting good things for them…no. I'm done for._

She stopped listening to the sermon again and thought about communion.

Communion was meant to be a time of contrition: a time to confess your sins to Christ, and ask for his forgiveness.

 _You shouldn't take it until you've made yourself right with God,_ Anne thought sadly.

When the communion glasses were passed, Anne didn't take one.


	83. Communion

When the communion tray was passed, with the bits of torn bread and the tiny glass cups of grape juice- the reverend thought it was sinful to use actual wine- Anne did not take the tray. She bit her lip, shaking her head quickly, and pushed it away.

Marilla looked at her sharply, seeming confused, but passed the tray on down the pew without making any scene over it.

Gilbert watched her, frowning.

He decided to turn his attention to Billy. Billy took the tray and popped the things off it.

Billy didn't even pray first.

Normally Gilbert didn't pay attention to what other people did at church. That was their business, not his, and he didn't think it was nice to stare at other people or make judgments about what they were doing.

But seeing Billy take communion with a laissez-faire attitude after Anne hadn't taken it at all, made Gilbert bubble with anger he couldn't explain.

He continued to watch Billy instead of listening to the reverend.

Billy poked Moody, who was sitting in front of him, and whispered something to him, gesturing toward the choir. They both snickered. They were clearly making fun of the choir.

After a moment Mrs. Andrews gave Billy a stern look. Billy slouched back on the bench.

 _He's pathetic_ , Gilbert thought.

He couldn't believe he'd been friends with someone so immature.

Later, when church was let out, Gilbert shoved past him, "It's not a _snack_ , Billy."

"What?" Billy turned around to face Gilbert after he'd shoved past him.

Gilbert turned back and hissed at him through clenched teeth, " _Communion_. It's not just grape juice and bread. You're _supposed_ to be praying."

"How do you know what I was doing or not?" Billy said, giving him an ugly look.

"Poking Moody, whispering, making fun of the choir? How _pathetic_ is it that at _your_ age your mother has to remind you to pay attention in church! Yeah, I was _watching_ you. You didn't pray. You didn't confess any sins at all, did you?"

"So what?" Billy asked. "When did you become a religious fanatical?"

"I'm _not_ ," Gilbert said. "I just think you've got a lot of nerve taking communion after what you did."

He walked away angrily.

Billy looked after him.

Mrs. Andrews came out of the aisle. "What was that all about?" she asked.

Billy was still watching Gilbert walk away. "Uh…"

Mrs. Andrews didn't wait for him to answer her. "You know, William," she said to him, "Nobody's making that boy come to church. He comes alone and sits by himself and pays attention like an adult." She adjusted her hat. "You really ought to try to be more like Gilbert, dear."

She walked away with Jane and Prissy.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

Why did everyone love Gilbert so much? Mr. Perfect…it made him sick.


	84. The Reverend

If you read the book series, the reverend is someone Anne is very close to, she calls him a "kindred spirit". BUT since this is a story from the tv show, I am making him unpleasant like he is on tv…the reverend sucks.

* * *

"Is something troubling you, Anne?" Matthew asked as they got into the buggy to head for home.

"What? Why?" Anne asked quickly. "Oh, you mean because I didn't take communion?" She gave a sigh. "No…I just didn't want to do it if I was doing it wrong."

Marilla looked surprised. "Doing it wrong? How could you do it wrong? You're just coming to God repentant and asking for forgiveness of sins."

Anne said, "Well, that's just it. I wasn't sure about all this repentance stuff." She was about to go on, but realized she did not want to talk about this with them, because she might accidentally let on that something bad had happened to her. So instead she asked, "Marilla, Matthew, may I go back and speak to the reverend? I want to ask him a question."

"Right now?"

"I feel it is most urgent," she declared.

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other. "Well…all right," Matthew said, turning the buggy around.

When they arrived back at the church, most of the congregation had gone. The church had only a few people still standing around chatting. Anne got out of the buggy.

"Would you like me to go with you?" Marilla asked.

"I think I best go alone," she answered.

Anne wasn't sure where the reverend was. She looked around the church until she found his study and knocked on the door.

"Come in," she heard a voice say.

She slowly opened the door and peeked her head in. The reverend looked up.

"Come in, child. What can I do for you?"

Anne slowly walked to his desk where he was writing. "Reverend, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," he replied, setting aside his papers. "Please, sit down."

"I hope it doesn't take up too much of your time. It's just a little question."

"What is it, my child?"

"Why do bad things happen?"

The reverend chuckled. "That's a 'little' question? That is a question that has plagued mankind for centuries."

Anne wasn't smiling.

He said, turning serious, "In Sunday School you've surely learned the story of creation, haven't you? And what happened after- when Eve, the first woman, sinned, the world became tarnished. She tempted Adam, and he fell into sin too. Every sin arose from Eve."

"So it's all _her_ fault, then?" Anne asked hotly, "None of it is Adam's fault? I mean….just because Eve _said_ something to him, it doesn't mean he _had_ to do it."

The reverend replied, "True, there's enough blame to go around. Though, it would seem that the serpent went to Eve because he knew he could not deceive Adam, but could _surely_ deceive Eve, who, _naturally_ , was the _weaker_ of the two."

Anne felt an angry heat rise to her cheeks. "Eve couldn't have been that _weak_ and ineffective if she could convince Adam to throw away all of humankind."

"The devil knows how a woman can so easily lead a righteous man astray."

Anne felt quite impassioned by this and said angrily, "So Adam isn't responsible for his own actions because a woman tempted him? Why couldn't Adam just do the right thing no matter _what_ Eve said?"

The reverend, confused by her taking the matter of blame so personally, backed off and said, "We seem to be moving into murky waters. No matter what we feel about Adam and Eve, the end result is that sin entered the world. It's only natural that bad things run rampant due to it."

Anne tried to calm down, and moved on to her next question: "So…so if something bad happens to me, it's just because the world is fallen _in_ _general?_ …It isn't because of something I've _personally_ done?"

"I wouldn't put it that way; sometimes God allows bad things to happen to us to teach us something. Or to change our ways."

"God punishes us," Anne said flatly.

"Sometimes, yes…"

Anne didn't know what else to say. Finally she said, "I better go. My family is waiting for me."

She got up to leave. But she stopped at the door and then turned back. She already knew she didn't like the reverend- but now she liked him even less- feeling he was terribly unfair to women. But, she still had another question, and she didn't know who else to ask. "I ought to ask you…I wondered about the sermon. About forgiveness and trespasses and all that."

"You were listening to the sermon!" He said with a smile. "I'm never sure whether children do. Or some of the adults, for that matter. What about forgiveness is troubling you?"

Anne bit her lip. "You see, I didn't take communion today because I can't quite get my heart right with God."

"In what way, child?"

"Because…you said forgiveness means you want the best for someone. That you have no ill will and you want only good for them."

"Yes?"

"…And, well, I'm not sure I can do that. I don't know if I have it _in_ me to forgive…I'd _like_ to do the right thing. But it doesn't seem to be coming easily."

The reverend said, "Nothing worth doing ever comes easily, does it? Forgiveness can be a tricky thing."

"Then what do you do?" Anne asked.

"It seems to me that it may be your sense of pride," he continued.

"What do you mean?" Anne asked.

"In order to be forgiving, you have to be humble. You have to realize that you, too, are a sinner. You have to realize that the person who wronged you is not worse than yourself."

"Really? But what if they _are_ worse than myself? People do all kinds of terrible things like…like murder! I've never done anything _that_ bad."

"To God, sin is sin. If you begin to compare and to rationalize why your sins are not as bad as other's sins, you are giving the devil a foothold. After all, even an unkind word, or a…a wrong _thought_ is a sin. The bible says 'Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths; get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger, brawling and slander'…"

Anne just stared at him. Finally she said, "I'll…I'll keep that in mind, reverend. See you next Sunday."

And she walked out of the dark church and into the blinding winter sunshine.

She felt absolutely no resolution from this conversation.

* * *

(Note- I know the reverend is mean but it will work out okay in the coming week.)


	85. Strengthening a Bond

Her talk with the reverend not helping her in the slightest, Anne decided to try to forget about church and focus on what she could accomplish on her own- her grades. She was happy on Monday morning when last week's geography tests were handed back and hers was marked with a 100.

Gilbert got a 100, too. Gilbert hadn't asked Anne about communion on the way to school. As they walked together in the morning, he debated whether he should ask her about it at all, because he thought communion was a person's own private business and he didn't know if he should pry. But he really wanted to ask her about it, and so he decided he _might_ ask on the way home from school, if he was able to bring it up as conversation and not as an ambush.

His opportunity came easily as they walked home that afternoon, when Anne said, "I'm glad Billy left me alone today. Made the day easier, that's for sure, not having to look at his ugly looming face." She kicked the snow with her boots.

Gilbert nodded. "Me, too. I wasn't sure what he was trying to do last week, approaching you like that. …I'm sorry I wasn't with you."

Anne looked at him. "You can't be by my side every moment. I'm going to have to figure out how to deal with Billy myself. I've got to stand up to him. Make him see that I can't be intimidated." Then she changed topics and said, "What did you say to him yesterday? I saw you go up to him as church was letting out."

"Oh, uh…" Gilbert hesitated, not sure if he should let her in on what he'd said. He decided not to. "I was just telling him he was childish, making fun of the choir. That's all."

"He looked really mad."

"Yeah, well…" Gilbert trailed off. Then he said, "Anne, can I ask you a personal question?"

Anne was long past feeling any awkwardness over personal matters when it came to Gilbert. After everything they'd gone through, she couldn't imagine any subject being taboo. "What is it?" she asked.

"Why didn't you take communion? In church? I noticed you didn't."

"Oh," she said, stopping in her tracks.

"I'm sorry," Gilbert said quickly, shaking his head. "It's not right for me to ask you that. It's none of my business."

"No," Anne said. "It's fine."

She began walking again. Gilbert followed.

She didn't say anything for a moment, and then- "I can't do it," she whispered.

"Can't take communion? Why not?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't mean I can't take communion."

"Then what…what can't you do?" Gilbert asked, looking over at her.

Anne stared straight ahead, her gaze unfocused. "I can't forgive him."

She turned and looked at Gilbert. "Now I won't go to heaven."

She looked up into the gray, wintery sky. "And you don't know how I've _imagined_ what heaven is _like_!"

She frowned. "I hope _hell_ isn't like what I've imagined. If it is, hell will be a _terribly,_ terribly _desolate_ place…with…with pits of _fire_ and-"

Gilbert interrupted her: "So first Billy caused you to have no chance at having a husband, and now he's keeping you out of heaven, too? …Wow, I never knew Billy had so much power."

" _He_ isn't keeping me out of heaven, God is!" Anne snapped at him, not appreciating the way he had just spoken to her. "And if I could be _good-_ heavenly, angelically _good_ \- then I wouldn't worry. But I know I can't be. I try _ever_ so hard to be quiet and sweet tempered and patient and loving. But I know I make mistakes every day. And every day is a chance to start over, but I always foul _something_ up by sundown!"

Gilbert laughed. "I think that was kind of the _point_. The reverend said we _can't_ do it on our own. Remember? That's why he said we needed Christ in the first place, isn't it?"

She shook her head, exasperated. "But he said you have to go to Christ to have your sins _forgiven…_ that that's how you get to God! _I'll_ never get to God because I can't get my sins forgiven if _I_ don't forgive _other_ people!"

Gilbert said, "Do you really believe that?"

"Don't you?" Anne responded.

"…I suppose so. I mean it's what we've always been taught. And I have no reason to believe it _isn't_ true. The Bible has been passed down over-"

Anne interrupted, " _See?!_ "

Gilbert stopped. "Look, if what the reverend says is true- that your sins can't be forgiven if you don't also forgive others- well, _if_ it's true, do you have to forgive them _immediately?"_

"You think God allows one some sort of divine grace period?" Anne said almost sarcastically.

"I'm just saying that maybe…maybe as long as you _eventually_ forgive them, you're ok. Maybe you don't have to forgive them right _away."_

"So what if I never do?" Anne said flatly, kicking at the snow as she walked.

"Well," Gilbert said, looking at her, "We'll deal with that when we come to it."

Anne looked at him. She couldn't help noticing how much he used the word " _we_ ".

"That's not all of it," she said. "He also said forgiveness means you don't wish them any harm. And that you want good things for them. And I _know_ I cant do _that_."

Gilbert was quiet a minute, thinking. Then he said, "Well, I don't see why not. You can want nice things for Billy."

"No, I can't," Anne said flatly.

"Sure you can," Gilbert said. "Like, maybe you want Mr. Andrews to get a very prestigious new position. Or that Mrs. Andrews inherits a grand mansion from some long lost relative. Those would be wonderful things for you to want for him, right? …And if it just so happens that those things mean they have to move to a foreign country and never come back to Avonlea, well, that's all right with you, too."

Anne stopped. "Yes. Yes! Why didn't I think of that?! I can hope good things happen for him that would benefit _me_ , too. You're a genius, Gilbert!"

Gilbert smiled. "Glad I could help."

Anne said, regrettably, "I _still_ want him to get sick and stay out of school if he can, though. And wishing for someone to get sick is most definitely wishing them harm, no way around that, I'm afraid."

"Tell you what," Gilbert said. "You just wish for the good things, and I'll do all the wishing for the bad things. I can be the one who wishes him harm instead of you. Ok? Let the sin be mine."

Anne smiled, looking down as they walked.

Gilbert looked over at her. "Anyway, Anne, I wouldn't worry about this whole forgiveness thing. At least not for a while yet. Don't push yourself. Just be."

Anne took a deep breath. "Just be," she repeated. She liked the way that sounded. She felt some of the pressure on her lift and float away.

After a moment of quiet, she commented stoutly, "I think it's pretty rotten of God to want me to forgive Billy. I mean, I understand the sentiment. In theory. But in practice, it's quite another thing."

She shut her eyes, groaning. "And now I've done it. God, please don't strike me down dead for calling you rotten."

She opened her eyes, "See? I can't go even a few minutes without a sinful thought."

Gilbert smiled and said, "I understand God wanting us to forgive people who hurt us. But remember, he also wants us to ask forgiveness for our own sins- so Billy would have to try to get God to forgive _him_ for what _he_ did."

"That's true," Anne said.

It comforted her a little bit to think that Billy had fallen out of favor with God.

Gilbert went on, "Somehow, though, I doubt Billy is bothering with asking God's forgiveness. …I doubt he ever gives his sins a second thought."

Anne had a stark realization. "If he doesn't even _ask_ God to forgive him, then does that mean he won't go to heaven?" She thought about this. "I mean, I don't want him in heaven but I don't feel right wishing for him to go in the other direction, either." She shook her head. "I'm sure heaven is a very big place, there'll be plenty of room to be apart from each other."

"Leave God to deal with Billy. He's more than capable."

Anne commented, "The reverend told me that God punishes people. I wonder if God will punish Billy."

"If he does, I hope I can be there to watch," Gilbert said softly, more to himself than to Anne.

Anne said, "Maybe he won't, because maybe Billy was just doing what God wanted him to do."

Gilbert looked at her, shocked. "What do you mean, what God _wanted_ him to do?"

Anne answered, "Well, maybe God was punishing me for something. And he used Billy to do it."

Gilbert shook his head, upset by that. "Anne…no. That's…no. There's no way God _wanted_ Billy to do that to you."

"Then why didn't he _stop_ him? Where was God when Billy shoved me to the ground?" She felt a sudden upset in her throat and tried to calm it. "If he didn't want Billy to do that to me then he could have _stopped_ him!"

Gilbert didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "I don't have answers, Anne. I wish I did. But I know there is no way God _wanted_ something like that to happen to you. Nothing like that should have _ever_ happened to you…or to anyone."

"Then why _do_ they? Why do bad things _happen_?" Anne said, repeating the question she'd asked the reverend.

She wasn't _really_ asking Gilbert, she was just talking to herself out loud.

But Gilbert spoke, and made her feel better than the reverend ever had. He said slowly, haltingly, as if he were just trying to figure it out for himself: "…I…I think God gave people free will, because…He wants us to _love_ …and love isn't _really_ love if you're forced to do it…so if we have free will, and we _choose_ to love, then…then that's _real_ , you know? Because no one made us do it. So we can use our free will to make the choice to love…but…but some people take that gift of free will that God gave them and they choose to use it to hurt people instead. And the choices they make…the choice to…to _mis-use_ that free will…it spreads out, affecting everyone around them… _other_ people- good, _kind_ people- like _you_ \- sort of just get caught in their wake." Then he looked at her and said, "I don't know why God didn't intervene when Billy did that. I wish he had. I can't figure out why he didn't help you."

"Well, he didn't intervene, but he _did_ help me," Anne said, touching Gilbert's arm lightly. "He gave me you."


	86. Sweetness and Light

"One more day of Billy being less like himself and more like a human being," Anne said with relief in her voice as they walked home on Tuesday. "Hopefully he'll stay that way."

"Yeah, something must be wrong with him. He's acting…normal." Gilbert said with a bit of a laugh. Then he said, sounding serious, "I felt so bad for Moody when Mr. Phillips told him he wished they still used dunce caps in schools."

"I don't know why he has to be so mean," Anne said. "I'd really like to ask him why he became a teacher since he clearly hates children."

"Well if you ask him…maybe wait till your _last_ day of school to ask."

Anne laughed.

"How's it going with the girls?" He asked her. "You've eaten lunch with them a couple times now. Are things better?"

"It's still a work in progress. Even though they let me back in their lunch corner now, I still don't feel that I'm _truly_ a part of things. I've been trying not to talk very much…I've always found it extremely challenging to keep every thought from spilling out, but I'm doing the very best I can, because I realized that if you don't say anything then you can't say anything wrong." She looked unhappy about this, but then she brightened up, saying, "At least I know Diana likes me. She's still trying to get the girls to like me too." She frowned. "I hope she can…I didn't think it would take so long."

"Diana's a nice girl. And the other girls like her a lot. If anyone can get you in, it's her." Gilbert said confidently.

"You know, I hate keeping things from Diana. She's supposed to be my dearest friend, and I feel like I'm lying to her by not telling her what's going on with me in all of this."

"There's nothing stopping you from telling her," Gilbert said. "There's nothing stopping you from telling _anyone_."

Anne looked at him. "Yes there is. It's not something I can talk about."

"…Anne, you have nothing to feel embarrassed about."

"Don't tell me how to feel," Anne said hotly.

Gilbert held his breath a moment then let it out. "Okay. Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. I have no right to tell you what you should or shouldn't feel."

Anne looked like she felt bad that she'd snapped at him.

"Anyway," she went on, "That wasn't what I meant. I _want_ to tell Diana, but…"

"Diana can tell the difference between a juicy piece of gossip and what is a _serious_ issue. She'll care, and she won't say anything hurtful."

"Oh, I _know_ ," Anne said. "I know I can trust her to _care_ about it. Of course I can. But…she might think she's _helping_ me by telling, you know?"

"Then she'd be doing the right thing. It's what _I_ should have done from the beginning," he said.

"No, it's not!" Anne told him angrily.

"Well, telling a parent seems like the caring thing to do, to me," he continued. "'I don't think I've done you any good by helping you hide it."

"But I don't _want_ anyone to know. I didn't even want _you_ to know! If it had been possible to keep it from you, I would have. …And Gilbert Blythe, if you decide to tell someone, I will never speak to you again!"

"I'm not," he said. "I told you I wouldn't, didn't I? But to be honest, I think I made the wrong decision. If Diana thinks she'd be helping you by telling an adult, she'd be handling it the right way."

Anne shook her head. "It's too much. The more people who know, the more _risk_ there is. I've got to keep this to myself. Completely."

Gilbert looked at her. "People knowing isn't a bad thing…it's not as if everyone has to know. Just your family is all."

"That's not true," Anne pointed out. "If Matthew or Marilla know, then they're going to have to _do_ something about it. They'll confront the Andrews, and then _they'll_ know…and they certainly won't believe it…they'll tell everyone I'm just spreading lies, and everyone at _school_ is going to find out- quickly, I'm sure…."

"Would that really be so bad?" He asked. "If all of that happens, at least maybe you wouldn't have to see Billy every day."

"I don't want them to pull me out of school. I _have_ to go to school. I don't want to grow up knowing nothing but how to clean an oven and bake a pie!" She looked angry. "School is _paramount_ to my future."

"I don't think they would pull you out of school," he said. "Maybe Billy would leave school. That would be good, wouldn't it? You wouldn't have to worry about him every day."

Anne looked skeptical. "Yes, the Andrews, a prominent, respectable family who's been in this town probably for generations, would pull their son out of school so that the unwanted orphan _feels_ better. That's likely."

"You're not an orphan anymore," he told her seriously. "You have a family. And you're certainly not unwanted."

His words made Anne feel better. Then she said, "Anyway, I want to tell Diana, but in a way I don't. She is sweetness and light, and I don't want to taint her."

"Anne…" he sounded like he didn't even know how to respond to that.

"She's pure perfection," Anne said wistfully, feeling she could never be as beautiful and beloved as Diana.

Gilbert said, "Don't put her on a pedestal. Diana's a nice girl, and I know you like her hair and her dresses, but…what did you call her? 'Sweetness and light'?"

Anne nodded unhappily.

"And why do you think _you're_ anything less than 'sweetness and light'?"

Anne stared at him. "You truly cannot _comprehend_ the enormous difference between plain old Anne and darling, _exquisite_ Diana?!"

He went on, "You don't need raven black hair and…and…fluffed sleeves, to be-"

" _Puffed_ sleeves," Anne corrected.

He laughed. "Ok, puffed. Maybe Diana _needs_ all those things to be 'sweetness and light'. Maybe without them she'd be nothing. But you don't. You're that all by yourself."


	87. Sisters

Tuesday afternoon Billy got home, dumped his things on the kitchen table, and helped himself to the last pastry from Jane's party. It was dry and crumbly by now since the party had been on Saturday, but he'd finish it anyway; there was only one left.

His mother came in as he was biting into it.

"William," she said. "You could have gotten a plate first. You are not an animal. And please put your things away instead of tossing them on the table."

As Billy moved his things off the table, she frowned and said, "You've already left crumbs on the floor."

"I'll get them, I'll get them," Billy said to her.

But he used his shoe to push the crumbs under the table.

When Jane came in, she hung up her coat and hat and took her books out of her bookstrap. She set her books on the table and sat right down to start on her homework. Billy rolled his eyes at her for starting on homework right away.

He was about to go upstairs, but then he hesitated. "Hey, Jane? Did you invite Anne to your party? I know she didn't come, but did you ask her?"

Jane looked up, surprised. "No," she said. "Even if I'd wanted to, Mother wouldn't have let me."

He nodded.

"Why do you want to know, anyway?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

Jane gave him the side eye. "You don't _like_ her, do you?"

"No!" Billy said, legitimately disgusted.

"I didn't think so," she said.

Billy felt unsettled all evening. Finally he decided he couldn't put it off any longer and was going to have to confront Prissy.

He waited till nighttime. He knocked on her door.

"What?" she called out.

"It's me," he answered.

"Come in," she said. She was sitting by her lamp with a book. "What do you want?"

He just stood there. He realized he didn't know what to say, now that the time had come.

He turned around, looked to make sure no one else was around, and shut the door. He came over and sat down. "I, uh…"

"What is it?" Prissy asked.

"Mr. Phillips," he said bluntly.

Her cheeks grew pink. "What about him?"

Billy looked around, avoiding her eyes. "Um…the day school let out early…"

"Yes…?" Prissy looked uncomfortable.

"I went back. To school. I saw you….and him."

Prissy took a deep breath and closed her book.

"Billy, what you saw was…" She looked like she didn't know what to say. "It was…nothing. He…he likes me. But those rumors…they're not true. Really, they're not." She looked very upset.

"I wasn't assuming you were doing what Anne…what Fido said," he said, shaking his head. "But there was some truth to it- the part about you two being…being together."

She closed her eyes as if wishing this was a bad dream.

"Don't tell our parents or Jane or anybody," she insisted. "Or even Mr. Phillips that you know…no one can know. After what that girl said, I…I can't have anyone thinking she was right."

"She _wasn't_ right!" Billy said. "One kiss doesn't mean anything's happened." He continued, "But Prissy, you…you have to stop this. Can you? Or won't he leave you alone? He should leave you alone, it's not right…he's a man, and you're in school."

"Billy, I don't _want_ him to leave me alone. I _like_ him. And he likes me. …He might even love me."

Billy shook his head. "He's taking advantage of you."

Prissy said, "He is _not_! We want to get married."

"What?!" Billy exclaimed.

"Shhh!" she said frantically.

"That's crazy. You can't marry our teacher!"

"It wouldn't be now. It would be later, after I've finished school. I don't have much time left now."

Billy got up to go.

"Billy, you won't tell anyone, will you?" Prissy asked urgently.

"That depends. Can you tell me the truth? All he did was kiss you? Nothing more? Because if he did anything more, then I don't think it's right for him to keep teaching in our school, not when he's taking advantage of a student."

Prissy shook her head. "That was it. Nothing more."

He left her.

Once he was out of her room, he wondered if she was lying to him.


	88. Distraction

On Wednesday when lunch time came, the younger student's teacher came to the door and asked for Diana. When Diana came back, she explained to the girls, "He says Minnie May's got a bad fever and so I have to walk her home. I'll be back before lunch is over."

She got up to go. Anne watched her nervously. She was sitting with the group again, but her membership in the group was still on shaky ground, and Diana was sort of her link to the group- she didn't want Diana to leave her.

But Diana said, "Anne, why don't you come with me? We can talk on the way."

Anne, with relief, got up quickly and joined her. They went to the cloakroom for their coats and hats and then went to the other room to collect Minnie May.

Gilbert watched her, not knowing where she was going, but he didn't have any worries seeing her leave- she wasn't alone, and Billy wouldn't want Diana to know what he'd done.

Billy was watching them leave, too, though- and he'd be watching for their return.

"Why did you bring your slate with you?" Diana asked as they started walking.

"No reason," Anne said. She clutched the slate tighter as they entered the woods. She didn't really think that anything would happen to her while she wasn't alone- there was safety in numbers, she thought- but why risk it. It was lunch time so Billy would be free to roam if he so chose, and she didn't know if Diana and Minnie May would be terribly effective fighters if it came to that. Gilbert had told her she could defend herself with that slate…he had personal experience in how hard she could hit with it.

When they approached the school again, this time without Minnie May, Billy wondered if there was a way for him to get her separated from Diana.

He didn't have to wait long.

Diana said, "I'm going to go and check to see if Minnie May's other mitten is still in their room. I can't believe she didn't notice she only had one." She rolled her eyes. "You go on back in, you don't want to have to face those little monsters again. I'll only be a moment- oh, and I ought to have checked with the teacher to make sure there isn't any work she'll need to make up." Without waiting for Anne, she went in.

Anne was about to follow her anyway, but then decided she'd use the privy while Diana was busy.

On her way back from it, Billy startled her and her slate flew out of her hands. He quickly reached down and picked it up. She stopped short, her breath hitching. The only thing she had to protect herself against him was now in his hands.

"Anne," he said. She hated his voice.

 _What, no Fido?_ She thought.

"Don't come near me," she said quickly.

"Please," he said. "I just want to ask you something."

"I don't care what you want, leave me alone!"

Anne began to back away from him, but almost slipped on the snow and stumbled.

As she nearly fell over, Billy reached toward her, but she recoiled from his arms, saying sharply, "Don't touch me," as she tried to get her balance back.

He pulled away quickly.

He held her slate out to her. She needed the slate- it was all she had to protect herself- and here he was, offering it back, but she could not make herself put her arm out to him, remembering the way he had grabbed her arm and caused the sprain that day. So she stayed where she was.

When he realized she wasn't making any move to take it from him, he moved on: "What did you see my sister doing with Mr. Phillips?"

"What?"

" _What did you see_?"

"I didn't see anything. It was all a mistake."

"Look, I'm not going to…." He trailed off, then finished: "…do anything."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Anne asked, not understanding why he was even telling her this.

"No, I…I just need to know. What you saw."

She stared at him. Was this some kind of test?

Billy explained, "That day school let out early, I went back and found him kissing her."

"Oh."

"And last night I told her I saw it. She said that's _all_ they've done, no more. And I wanted to know from you if that's true."

Anne didn't say anything.

Billy prompted her, " _You_ said they were having intimate relations. And…I mean…that's a lot _more_ than just kissing…"

"I am well aware of what intimate relations entails," she said tightly.

"Look, all I want to know is if you really saw more than that. If Prissy was lying to me."

"No," she said.

"Really?"

"Why would I say anything now?" she said, looking at him with dead eyes.

He stared at her a minute. Then he sighed. He looked like he didn't know what to say or do.

"Mr. Phillips shouldn't be doing anything with her. It's not right." he said.

"No, it's not," was all she said.

"But because of _you_ , everyone thinks they are."

Anne's tightened her fists, wishing she'd had the nerve to put her arm out and take her slate back when he'd tried to give it to her, and wondering if she had any chance in a fight with him.

"Prissy's being taken advantage of."

"How good of you to care when a girl's being mistreated," she said through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, well, people _should_ care when a good person has their name dragged through the mud," he said, justifying it, and then continued as if this was a valid excuse for what he'd done to her: " _You_ soiled her reputation."

"I never meant to-"

"We made people think you were lying. …And now I don't want anyone to know the rumor was true, because then her reputation's soiled _forever_."

There was a short silence.

Finally he said, "…I don't know what to do. If she's lying I feel like our parents should know…I don't want to make her upset by telling our parents, but Mr. Phillips shouldn't be teaching in our school if he's doing _that_ with a student."

"What, you want _advice_?" Anne asked incredulously.

"No."

"Then what?!" She said angrily, not understanding why he was trying to confide in her. "I can't help you and I wouldn't if I could."

"Can you just stop with all the…look, I'm not mad at you anymore." He said.

He took a step toward her, and she took a step backward.

She found herself wondering- if she ran, would he shove her to the ground like he had the first time she'd tried to run from him?

"What's wrong with your throat?" she asked suddenly.

Billy looked caught off guard at the random question.

Anne didn't know why she had suddenly latched onto this wonder; she recognized the absurdity of it right away- how misplaced it seemed when there were more important issues at hand- namely, how she was going to get away. But all she could do was talk.

She continued: "Your throat. Are you sick?"

"…No," he answered, looking confused. What was she doing asking about his throat?

"Well you _sound_ sick," she said blankly.

She stared at him.

"Uh…" He had a plan for how this conversation was supposed to go, and now he felt thrown off.

"You should go home before you get worse and make everybody else sick. It's going around. You probably already have a fever," she said, nodding.

Billy was staring at her like he didn't know how to respond to her. Then he kind of shook his head as if trying to get back to what he had _planned_ to say: "You know, even though it ended up being true, you _still_ shouldn't have said anything about my sister."

She continued, still backing away from him, "Heat a towel over the fire and keep it on your neck," she told him. "Because it will help with the swelling in your glands. Do your ears hurt, too? They're connected, you know- your ears and your throat."

He tried to go on. "I'm not going to feel guilty, if that's what you want. This was your fault. You're the one who did something wrong. Not me."

"Drink some tea. With honey. It'll help. …And…and you should try to sleep on your stomach," she said. "Because otherwise all that drainage is going to end up in your throat."

Billy stopped trying to talk to her at all, finding her too irritating to continue. "…Here," he said, walking closer to her, slate held out to her.

She hesitated, but then stepped closer to him and took it. She didn't want to get any closer and she didn't want to touch it after he'd held it, but she needed the slate back…it was all she had to protect herself.

Once she had it, she wondered if she would need to use it.

She didn't. He walked away from her and didn't look back.


	89. An Uncomfortable Truth

Walking home that afternoon, Anne relayed the account of what had happened when she and Diana had returned from their trip.

She saw Gilbert's jaw clench as she told him the things Billy had said.

"He didn't do anything to hurt me," she explained, "but I didn't know if he would or not, of course, so it was…tense. He mostly wanted to know what I actually saw Prissy doing with Mr. Phillips."

"Why did he suddenly decide to believe you now?" Gilbert wondered.

"Remember that day we were let out early? And I said Mr. Phillips probably did that so he could spend time with Prissy alone?"

Gilbert nodded.

"Well Billy said that he went back to the school later and he saw them kiss."

"Ah, I see," Gilbert said nodding. "So now he knows."

Anne nodded. "But I guess he thinks that if I saw them kissing, I'd have just said they were kissing. Because I said they were having intimate relations, he thinks I saw _more_ than kissing. He was demanding to know what, but I didn't want to tell him anything, because who knows what might set him off."

"He didn't hurt you, though? …You'd tell me if he did, wouldn't you?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I would. He didn't. The only other thing he did besides demand information was tell me I was wrong to say anything about Prissy."

Then she added, "And he made a point of saying that he wasn't going to let me make him feel guilty."

Gilbert looked angry.

"He did say he wasn't mad at me anymore, though, and that he wasn't going to do anything to me. I hope he meant it…it doesn't make me feel any better, of course, because I can't trust him to keep his word, but I hope it's true because then he'll leave me alone."

Gilbert nodded. "I hope so."

After he dropped Anne off, Gilbert paid a visit to the Andrews.

Mrs. Andrews came up to Billy's room and told him Gilbert was here to see him.

"What does he want?" Billy asked.

"I don't know, he's here to see you, why don't you go ask him yourself?" she told him less than kindly. "Your manners could certainly use some work. I'm glad Gilbert is here, maybe he'll be a good influence on you." She went downstairs.

Billy felt anger bubble up inside him. He was really starting to hate that guy.

"Well, where is he?" Billy yelled out when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Would you please not shout across the house? It is most unsettling. He's out on the porch. I asked him in, of course, but he refused, saying he only had a moment."

Billy opened the front door and went outside.

"Did you get the answers you wanted?" Gilbert said in a hard voice as Billy approached him. There was no hello and no pleasantries exchanged.

Billy asked, "What are you on about?"

"From Anne. When you ambushed her today."

"She told you about that?"

"She tells me everything."

"Of course she does," Billy said, annoyed. "Blessed Gilbert, the patron saint of ugly orphans."

Gilbert said, "If you want to walk away without a bloody nose, you'd better stop talking now."

"What do you want, anyway?" Billy asked.

"She refused to tell you anything because she doesn't know what's going to set you off. But I decided to come answer your question for her. You wanted to know what she saw Prissy and Mr. Phillips doing?"

"Yeah," Billy said lowly, looking behind him to make sure the front door was shut.

"She saw them standing very close together, holding hands, and touching each other…on the arms, and on the face, and I'm pretty sure that's about it."

Billy shook his head. "No," he said, "No, that doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"Because…because she said they were having _intimate relations_ ," Billy explained.

"She never even saw them kiss," Gilbert said to him.

"They _did_ kiss-"

Gilbert interrupted, " _You_ saw them kiss. She didn't."

"But…why would she say they were having intimate relations if all she saw was them holding each other like that?"

"Because she didn't know any better."

"What do you mean? She couldn't _not_ know...she knows all about that stuff!"

"No," Gilbert said. "She thought intimate relations was something about touching. She didn't understand."

Billy stared at him.

"She didn't see them…doing anything then?"

Gilbert shook his head slowly.

"…Oh," Billy said.

"Oh?" Gilbert asked. "That's all you have to say?"

Billy shrugged. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, sounding defensive.

"How about admitting you did something wrong?"

Billy acted like he didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "She deserved what she got."

Gilbert resisted his urge to punch the living daylights out of Billy.

"How'd you figure that?" he said, his voice shaking with anger.

"Well…she shouldn't have said anything about Prissy in the first place."

Gilbert nodded slowly. "Yeah, she shouldn't have, and she knows that. But you think that justifies what you did to her? That it makes it okay?!"

Billy looked uncomfortable. Then he said, "It's not like I ruined anything. She was ruined already."

Gilbert decided he'd had enough and he needed to leave before he did something he'd regret.

"You're beyond hope," Gilbert said. "You disgust me." He stepped off the porch, ready to go.

"She's a liar," Billy called out suddenly as Gilbert began to walk away. "She's manipulating you. Making you think she's so _innocent_ …telling you she didn't know anything about intimate relations. She knows _everything_ about it!"

"She didn't know anything at all, Billy." Gilbert's sorrowful eyes cut straight through him when he said: "But she does _now_."

Billy just stared at him.

Just then the door opened and Billy's mother poked her head out.

"William, dear, come inside. Gilbert, why don't you come in? It's too cold to stand out here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Andrews, but I'll be going now," Gilbert said, still looking at Billy.

"You know, you sound like you're getting sick," Gilbert remarked as he started to leave, thinking of Anne and hoping Billy would have to stay home from school.

"Anne thinks I'm getting sick." Billy said, shrugging.

"Does she?" Gilbert asked. Anne hadn't said anything to him about that.

"Yeah… She…she kept telling me things to do…to help. Like tea and stuff..." Billy trailed off.

"She's a better person than I am. Goodbye, Billy."


	90. Heard

Jane softly shut her window, leaned back, and breathed.

She stared at herself in her mirror.

She'd been spying, but she didn't know if she understood what she'd just heard.

She was up in her room when she'd overheard Billy yelling across the house about " _what did Gilbert want_ ". She didn't expect to hear anything unusual, but she thought she'd listen in. She might find out some interesting tidbit about Gilbert that she could share with Ruby.

Now she was full of questions.

She didn't know how to feel about their conversation about Prissy. She was definitely aware of the rumors Anne had spread. And she thought they weren't true, of course, but now she felt confused. It sounded like Billy had reason to believe they were true and Gilbert was trying to convince him that they weren't.

One thing that stood out to her, though, was that they both seemed to agree that Prissy and Mr. Phillips had been seen kissing each other. That knocked the wind out of her as she crouched down at her window. She'd _believed_ Prissy when Prissy had come home crying to her parents and saying that terrible rumors were being spread about her by the awful new girl. … _Prissy was putting on an act_ , she realized uncomfortably. All the crying from Prissy, and the anger she'd sparked in their family…all the while Prissy had been keeping secrets from them- it was true? Jane thought she and her big sister were close. Now she had the strange sensation that her sister had been leading a double life.

Billy had called Gilbert "the patron saint of Anne" or something like that, and Gilbert even said to him that " _she tells me everything"_. …How in the world did Anne and Gilbert grow so close? She thought this point was particularly bizarre, considering Gilbert was handsome and popular, and Anne was…well, Anne was Anne.

One thing was clear: Anne was lying when she told the girls that she and Gilbert weren't spending time together. They obviously were. And what's more, they were hiding it, meeting in secret, maybe sneaking off together.

That startled her enough as it was, but she felt even further confused by the final part of their conversation: Why was Billy _so_ adamant that Anne knew everything about intimate relations, even after Gilbert telling him that she was mistaken? …What did Gilbert mean when he said that Anne didn't know about intimate relations " _but she does_ _ **now**_ "?

Gilbert said that Billy had done _"something wrong"_ and Billy responded that Anne had " _gotten what she deserved_ ". …Had Billy _done_ something to Anne? It sure sounded like it. She tried to think about if Anne had ever come to school with bruises or anything. She didn't want to think of her brother hitting a girl but she had to admit she couldn't put it past him. ….Anne _had_ sprained her wrist, she remembered. But that couldn't have been caused by her brother, could it? No, she thought, changing her mind- Billy would not fight a girl. And Anne had told everyone she'd tripped over a root.

But she felt an uncomfortable feeling nagging at her…What did Billy mean when he said " _she was ruined already_ "? …Jane had heard her mother speak of a "ruined woman" once, when she'd had Mrs. Gillis over for tea. She and Ruby had been listening at the stairwell. They wanted to ask what it meant, but their mothers were speaking in hushed tones and seemed dismayed, so they got the hint that being a "ruined woman" was not something to be spoken of in polite society and seemed to mean that you'd done something to mark you as unmarriageable.

…Jane had been spying, but she wished she hadn't.


	91. Wish Granted

On Thursday morning when Anne and Gilbert reached the school, they separated as they always did now, and went in one at a time.

Anne noticed Billy's seat was empty. Maybe he was just late.

She felt like she was holding her breath for most of the morning, waiting to see if he'd suddenly come in.

But by lunch time, he still wasn't there, so she knew he'd stayed home. At lunch she asked Jane why he was absent.

"He's got a bad cold. He sounded like he was getting sick Wednesday, but mother had him go to school anyway, but then last night he got all stuffed up and his throat was so sore he couldn't talk at all. So mother made him stay home today."

"Poor Billy," Josie said.

"Yes, poor Billy," Anne repeated. But inside she was beaming.

Her walk home with Gilbert that afternoon was even happier than usual. "I bet he won't be here tomorrow either, then," she said, sounding over the moon. "Maybe he'll even still be sick on _Monday_! Don't you think it's awful that I'm thrilled with someone feeling bad? But I _am_. Nothing makes me happier than to know he's lying there feeling _miserable_."

Gilbert laughed. "I can't say I feel sorry for him."

The next day- Friday - passed happily for Anne as Billy was absent again.

She felt positive that Billy would be out of school again Monday, because late on Friday afternoon, before leaving school, she asked Jane if Billy was any better?

"Oh, no, he's much worse," Jane told her. "He can't breathe at all. Mother's had him sitting next to the stove with a pot of boiling water."

"That's good," Anne said a little too enthusiastically. "Uh, I mean- the- the part about the steam from the water helping him breathe. That's good. Good thinking."

Then she said- just to be nice to Jane- "Well, hopefully he'll be all better in time to come to school on Monday."

Jane shook her head. "I wouldn't expect it. He really is awful. And even if he does get better, he'll play up being sick as long as he can so that he won't have to do schoolwork again," she said with a laugh.

Anne laughed too.

The weekend would be the easiest two days she'd had in a long time.


	92. Better Days

Anne hated that Billy was constantly in her thoughts.

She didn't want to waste one second of her time thinking about him.

But he lurked in every corner of her mind, taking up space he wasn't welcome in.

At least for now her thoughts of him were happy ones: he was feeling miserable, and she was elated.

The weekend was lovely and Matthew and Marilla noticed she seemed extra chipper.

She was even excited to go to church because it was one more place that Billy would not be. When Anne, Matthew, and Marilla filed into their pew and sat down, Anne glanced over to where the Andrews usually sat. Billy was not with them.

But Jane saw Anne looking over, caught her eye, and waved to her with a small smile. Anne smiled back, surprised at the unexpected friendly acknowledgement from Jane.

The church sermon left Anne feeling a little guilty for being so happy that someone was sick. She remembered that she was supposed to be wanting good things for others. She ignored that nagging feeling of guilt until she no longer could. _Stop it,_ she told herself. _That's not the kind of person you want to be. You said it yourself that it wasn't right. Do the right thing._

Her eyes settled on the clock. There were five minutes left in the hour. _Gracious heavenly father_ , she said silently in her mind. _You've got_ _ **so**_ _many other people to look after, could you ignore_ _ **me**_ _for five minutes? Five minutes relishing in that horrible boy's misfortune, and then I'll stop. In five minutes the clock will strike the hour and_ _ **then**_ _I'll be good- heavenly, angelically good. …Let me have_ _ **just**_ _five minutes…I promise._

She used her five minutes to their fullest potential.


	93. Fever

Monday was another happy day for Anne.

She and Gilbert arrived at school a bit early, which meant Anne had a chance to chat with the other girls for a few minutes before class started. She didn't even have to ask how Billy was doing, because Josie asked first.

Jane reported, "He can breathe on his own now. So I think if he can get some sleep, he'll get better. See, he hasn't really been able to get any good sleep because he can only _breathe_ when he's sitting over the stove- and he can't _sleep_ if he's sitting over the stove, of course. When he tries to lay down, he can't breathe again. It's been a struggle."

Mr. Phillips called them to attention and began their school day.

Back at the Andrews house, Billy _was_ able to breathe on his own, which meant he could finally lay down and try to sleep.

But his fever was still going strong, and it was keeping him awake. He was shivering one minute and sweating the next.

Mrs. Andrews put a hot water bottle in the bed with him, but Billy couldn't seem to get warm, no matter how many times she changed it or the abundance of covers she put over him. "I'm so c-c-cold," he said, his teeth chattering. His mother, feeling sorry for him and being unable to do any more, sat holding him, wrapped up in quilts.

Only a few moments later, he'd be sweating profusely, clawing at the quilts to untangle himself, as if he were being strangled, and Mrs. Andrews would desperately try to cool his forehead with a cold cloth.

Finally, about three o'clock in the afternoon, the fever broke.


	94. The Injury

Jane had been conflicted for a few days now.

She'd thought about the overheard conversation almost incessantly, turning it over and over in her mind.

She was still reeling over the news that Prissy's scandal was actually true.

But what was _more_ puzzling to her was the part about what Gilbert had said: _How about admitting you did something wrong? You think that justifies what you did to her? That it makes it okay?_

When Jane thought about this later- and she thought about it a lot- she came to the upsetting conclusion that Anne's story about tripping over a root had to have been a lie…Billy _had_ sprained Anne's wrist.

What else could they have been talking about? Anne had an injury, and that's all it could mean.


	95. Anne's Words

At home, Billy was resting in bed. His fever had broken the day before. The sweating and shaking with cold had finally stopped. Billy had eaten a real meal, and taken a bath. While he was doing that, his mother put clean sheets on his bed, so when he went back into his room afterward he got back into a fresh bed and slept for hours and hours. He still wasn't well, but he was on the mend.

His mother had gone back to her housework now that she didn't have to sit with him anymore, and she was busier than usual since she was now several days behind in laundry. And with his father at work and his sisters at school, Billy had all of Tuesday to just lay about and enjoy some solitude.

But his throat still hurt a bit, and his ears felt funny. Anne's words suddenly came into his mind: _They're connected, you know- your ears and your throat_. Why was she helping him? _Heat a towel over the fire and keep it on your neck. Because it will help with the swelling in your glands..._ Whatever. He'd take her advice. She was nothing more than a nursemaid, she probably knew all kinds of things about taking care of people. So he went downstairs and got a towel, heated it over the fire for a few minutes, and then took it back upstairs with him. He lay it on his neck, tucking it up around his ears. It felt _wonderful_. He relaxed into his covers _...And...and you should try to sleep on your stomach...Because otherwise all that drainage is going to end up in your throat._ He turned over in his bed.


	96. Jane Knows

I don't want to annoy people with too many alert emails, so I'm sorry I posted 5 new chapters within the past few hours. I wanted to space things more evenly but they were all pretty short so I hated to just post something so short and not continue. That's why I posted so many at once. Please don't unfollow : (

* * *

By Tuesday night, Billy knew he was better and would be perfectly well enough to attend school the following day, but he hoped he could appear sick a bit longer so he could have another day like today- hanging around the house, alone, reading magazines, napping, tossing a ball into the air and catching it…. _anything_ at all, as long as it wasn't school work.

Before he went to bed that night, there was a knock on his door.

"Who is it?" Billy said, trying to make his voice appear raspy and strained, in case it was his mother.

There was no answer. Jane opened his door, marched straight in, and said, "I know what you did."

Billy looked up from his baseball magazine.

His heart caught in his throat.

But then he looked back at his magazine, turned the page and said in a bored voice, "I don't know what you're talking about." His voice wasn't strained sounding anymore; he'd dropped that act once he knew it was just his sister.

Jane sat down on his bed. "Don't lie to me, I know about Anne."

Billy wasn't reading the magazine anymore, but he kept his eyes glued to it.

"Was it not enough to scare her, you had to cause injury, too?" She asked, upset, thinking only of Anne's wrist. "You hurt her, Billy! You hurt her for _real_! How could you do something permanent like that?"

"Well I wouldn't call it permanent. She's fine," Billy said, casually flipping through the pages.

"Okay, not _permanent,_ permanent," Jane said. "But still, something that _lasts_ …you didn't just yell at her and send her on her way. You had to make it _physical?_ It could be weeks or even months before she's okay again!" Jane, again, was talking about Anne's wrist.

"Look," Billy said, finally setting aside his magazine and sitting up. "Maybe it was a bad thing to do, but what she did was worse. I couldn't let her go around spreading lies about our sister."

"What she said about Prissy ended up being _true_ , didn't it?" Jane whispered.

"No!" Billy said. "He kissed Prissy but that doesn't mean that anything else happened. Prissy wouldn't do that."

"Well Prissy's doing _something_ ," Jane said, "And I don't think Anne should have said anything about it, either, but if she saw it and said something, then she was only telling the truth!"

Billy sounded furious. "You shouldn't be defending that trash. If she says nasty things about our sister then something nasty needs to happen to _her!_ "

"But-"

Billy interrupted, saying angrily, "Don't feel sorry for her. Think about it: she knows everything about intimate relations; she wouldn't know about that stuff unless she was putting out! She's probably had every guy she's ever met. Even that dumb foreign farmhand the Cuthberts have...she probably sneaks off to the barn to do nasty things with him."

Jane felt confused…what did _that_ have to do with Anne's wrist?

"She's a tramp, Jane. Don't give her a second thought. What _I_ did to her was nothing she hasn't done before, probably a hundred times. …I just made it hurt, that's all. To teach her a lesson."

Jane stared at him, hardly breathing. She had thought they were talking about Anne's sprained _wrist_. But Billy had...


	97. Not With, But To

"Well you don't have to act like I'm some kind of monster over it," Billy said as Jane stared at him.

She just sat there a moment, then she slowly got up off his bed.

Finally she asked, "How…how did you think of…"

" _What?"_ Billy asked, his patience growing thin.

"… _doing_ that?!" Jane finished awkwardly. "…Have you ever done that before?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"Then how did you even _know_ …"

"It's not exactly hard to figure out," Billy said with a laugh.

"But…" She shook her thoughts away. She felt _so_ confused. "I thought you didn't _like_ Anne."

Billy looked startled. "I _don't_."

"You call her ugly. You call her a dog."

"Yeah," Billy agreed.

"If you find her so unattractive, then why would you want to _do_ that with her?" Jane could not comprehend this. "The first time ever you did that sort of thing, and you wanted it to be with _her_?"

She sputtered on, "Billy, you…you act like you can't even get too _close_ to her or you'll catch cooties from her or something…but then you turn around and do something that's the very closest you can _be_ to her? You…you had _intimate relations_ with her!"

Billy just stared at her as if she were dumb- as if there was a puzzle with a giant piece missing and that piece was dangling over Jane's head but she hadn't seen it yet. He responded, "Don't you _get_ it? I didn't do it _with_ her. I did it _to_ her."

Jane let that sink in.

The line made her feel shaken to her core, and it would replay itself over and over, endlessly, in her mind, in the all the days and weeks and months to come: _I didn't do it_ ** _with_** _her. I did it_ ** _to_** _her._

Then a cruel smile crossed his face. "It was the perfect revenge- why not do to _her_ what _she_ accused Prissy of? It served its purpose: it hurt, and she bled."

Jane just stared at him.

Then he laughed. "Gilbert acts like bloody underwear is dangerous to me, like it's _proof_ or something. But she's not gonna show that to anybody; she'd be too embarrassed." He looked sickly proud of himself as he said: "The only thing bloody underwear will do is remind her that she shouldn't mess with me."

Tears sprang to Jane's eyes, but she turned quickly to avoid her brother seeing them. "I don't think you should have done that," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Why not? She won't make that mistake again. Just wait and see if you hear her make one peep about any of us."

"I'm going to bed now." Jane said, quickly heading toward the door.

Billy slept easily, but Jane lay awake for hours.


	98. House of Secrets

_She wouldn't know about that stuff unless she was putting out. What I did to her was nothing she hasn't done before, probably a hundred times._

As Jane lay in bed, she thought about this. Was doing that to a girl who had never engaged in such things worse than doing it to a girl who _had_? Jane thought it probably was. After all, if a girl had already done that before, then doing it again wouldn't change her status in any way, she decided.

But a small voice in Jane's inner consciousness told her that she was wrong. Even if Anne had done it a hundred times, each of those hundred times would have been on _Anne's_ terms…and while it disgusted Jane to think of Anne _wanting_ to do those things with boys at her age- and without even being _married_ \- she knew in her heart that it was even _more_ disgusting to have it happen _to_ you when you didn't _want_ it.

Jane didn't know much about intimate relations, but she that knew married couples did it. And when you get married, it's because you fell in _love_. And if you were in love, everything was different, wasn't it? …But intimate relations between two people who hated each other, with one of them stronger than the other and who wouldn't let up, while the other one had probably cried and begged to be left alone…that was not love, that was…

…that was…

… _ **Scary**_.

She shuddered at the thought. As if it wasn't enough that Billy had done that to Anne, he'd flat out admitted that he wanted it to be painful.

Jane's mind was reeling with unpleasant thoughts. Very _adult_ thoughts, ones that she didn't feel ready to face.

 _Mr. Phillips is taking advantage of Prissy. She's a_ _ **student**_ _. He's_ _ **kissing**_ _her and making her think she's in love with him. And maybe she is…but how would she_ _ **know**_ _? …I don't think I'll ever look at Mr. Phillips the same way again. He's my teacher but I can't possibly have any_ _ **respect**_ _for him now._

 _And Billy…what can I even_ _ **call**_ _that? Is it still intimate relations, even if Anne didn't have any say in it? Well, the act was…the same. What they had_ _ **done**_ _, it was…the same. It's_ _ **still**_ _intimate relations, regardless, but…but he_ _ **forced**_ _her to engage in it, and that makes it_ _ **different**_ _, doesn't it?_

 _I can't talk about these things with anyone_ , she thought. _It's too embarrassing, and anyway, I…I don't even know what to think about them yet._

She finally drifted off. It wasn't easy to fall asleep in a house full of secrets.


	99. To Be On Her Side

On Wednesday Billy was still out of school, but word made its' way to Anne that Jane had said he was fine now and was just resting at home for one more day, and he would surely be back tomorrow.

As soon as Anne got wind of that, she knew that today was going to be hard- she was glad Billy was gone another day, but she felt dread knowing that this was her final day of not having to look at him.

To make matters worse, Diana was out of school, presumably having caught Minnie May's cold.

Anne was nervous about lunch time. She'd been eating lunch with the girls every day again, but things weren't all smooth sailing yet, and with Diana gone…

It didn't take long for Josie to take advantage of Anne not having Diana there to be her ally.

Josie said loudly- intentionally excluding Anne- "Jane, your party was so much fun! Wasn't it, girls?"

Jane looked uncomfortable. "Thank you, Josie, but we shouldn't talk about that when there's someone here who wasn't invite- uh, who couldn't come."

Anne bit her lip, staring down at her sandwich, embarrassed.

Josie looked at her. " _Oh_ , you're _right_." She said, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

Then she said brightly, sounding ever more like a mean girl, "I have an idea! The _perfect_ idea! Seeing as you didn't get to come to Jane's party, why don't we have another party? One just for _you_?"

Anne did not like where this was going. Josie was not nice enough to actually want to have a party for Anne, so she was afraid to hear whatever Josie was going to say next. She held her breath as Josie continued, "We'll do everything _just_ the same. That way you'll feel like you didn't miss anything. We'll have ice cream, and a cake, and parlour games, and we'll all wear our very fanciest of dresses-"

And there it was.

Josie stopped talking suddenly and put on an expression of concern. "Although I guess that wouldn't work for _you_ , dear Anne, would it? All _you_ have to wear are that dingy old gray dress you wore yesterday, and this plain-as-mud brown thing you've got on now. What a shame. I'm so sorry."

Anne didn't say a word to Josie. She stared at her, then got up and left, taking her lunch to the cloak room and sitting in the corner by herself.

Jane watched her.

"I think we should be nicer to Anne," Jane said quietly when Anne had left.

"Why?" Josie asked bluntly, a snotty look on her face.

"Because…because we haven't given her much of a chance," Jane explained. "Imagine if _you_ were Anne."

"If I'm imagining that I'm Anne, then I'll also have to imagine that I'm ugly, odd, and awkward." Josie said. She looked around at the others and laughed.

"That's not funny, Josie," Jane said quietly. "Anne just wants to belong, the same as any of us."

Ruby put her word in: "Well then she shouldn't have stolen Gilbert from me! She walked to school with him at _least_ three times that we know of, and he's always _staring_ at her, and…" she stopped, starting to get upset.

"She's not an item with Gilbert," Jane protested, almost angrily.

This was a lie, because Jane now knew that Anne and Gilbert seemed to be _inseparable_. She wasn't quite sure _how_ it had worked out that Gilbert knew what had happened, but he _obviously_ did, and was now Anne's sworn defender. But that had to be kept _secret_ , if Anne was _ever_ to break into this group. "I know it looked that way, but we were mistaken…it wasn't what it looked like. I don't think she and Gilbert even really know each other very well."

She took a deep breath. "Anyway, _I'm_ going to be nicer to her. Like Diana. You all do what you want."

Jane packed up her lunch and walked toward the cloakroom.

Anne looked up when Jane stopped in front of her.

"Mind if I sit with you? Josie's _such_ a bore," she said, trying to sound light about it.

"…Yeah," was all Anne said, feeling a bit stunned that one of the girls had moved to her side even without Diana there to prod them. Anne moved her food over to make room for Jane.

After knowing what her big brother had done, Jane didn't know what to say to Anne or how to talk to her…she felt tongue-tied and shy. She still didn't know what she ought to do about the whole thing, but no matter how uncomfortable she felt talking to Anne, she had resolutely decided that she owed it to Anne to be her friend.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jane said, "I have shortbread cookies. You want to share them with me?"

She held one out to Anne. Lunchtime passed easily.


	100. We Have to Be Nice

On Thursday morning Prissy woke up with a fever.

"It's going through the whole school, mother," Jane said before they left. "Almost half of the younger children's room have been out _all week_. And it seems to be starting to hit our crowd now too."

"Well, you keep wrapped up," Mrs. Andrews said, worried. "And don't tarry; it's too cold to be outside any longer than necessary- get to school as quick as you can."

Jane and Billy left. They didn't talk on the way, at first, until finally Jane finally said, "I don't think you should bother Anne anymore. And I don't mean what happened, I mean…anything. No teasing, no name calling. And no barking at her like a dog."

Billy said, "I'm not taking orders from my baby sister."

Jane stopped walking and turned to him, looking angry. "If you don't want Mother and Father to know what you did, then you'd better do what I say."

"They wouldn't believe it, anyway," Billy said confidently, walking on- but after a moment of worrying, he decided he'd better not give Jane any reason to tell on him. So he said, "I'm done with her, anyway. I'm not going to waste time on her. I mean, she knows she's a dog without me telling her, right?"

"Be nice to her," Jane said. "Or I'm telling Mother and Father."

"You're wrong, being on her side," Billy said, annoyed. "I'm family, she's nothing to you."

"That's not the point!" Jane said. "You're always so mean to everyone!"

"I am not," Billy argued.

"Well, not to your friends, you're not. And not to Josie Pye. I guess you like her."

Billy didn't say anything.

"That's another thing," Jane spoke up. "Josie may hate Anne, but I think even _she_ would be horrified by what you've done. So if you don't want to ruin your reputation with _everyone_ at school- _including_ Josie- then you better stop this right now."

"You know, you haven't exactly been friendly with her yourself."

"I haven't been horrible to her like you have!"

"No, but I don't see you doing anything to make her feel welcome here."

"That's not true," Jane protested. "I ate lunch with her yesterday."

"Oh really?" Billy asked. "And you didn't lose your appetite?"

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Jane snapped, exasperated. "You better get some self-control and you better get it fast because we're almost to school. I meant what I said!"

She walked on ahead of him.

Billy quickly caught up. "Don't lose your marbles over it. I'm not going to treat her bad. You'll see."

"Good. I wish you could take back what you did, but you can't. So all we can do is not make things any worse for her. We have to be nice."

Billy looked grumpy but as they reached the schoolhouse, he said, "Fine."


	101. Fresh Start

As they went up the steps, Jane said, "I wonder if you should apologize to her."

"I'm not doing that," Billy immediately stated.

Jane looked at him as if she was going to argue. But then she said, "Well, what she probably wants _most_ is for you to just keep away from her. …But if an opportunity presents itself for you to do something nice, then you should." As she pushed the door open and went in, she whispered, "And _I'm_ _watching_ _you_."

After putting their things in the cloak room, Billy went to his desk and Jane went to hers.

Billy was annoyed by Jane already. As if it wasn't enough that he had Saint Gilbert on his back, he was now getting bossed around by his kid sister. He got his ink bottle out, and shook it, for no apparent reason. It wasn't something that needed to be shaken but he was annoyed and had to do something. Seeing the ink brought back a memory that made him smile: the day Mr. Phillips made Anne sit with him, and he'd put his pen in her ink. It had been…there was a word for it- one of their vocabulary words- but try as he might, he couldn't think of the word he meant for it…Anne would probably know, he thought with a laugh. Anyway, the point was, he'd wanted to scare her like he'd scared her in the woods, but he couldn't really do anything to her during class, so he figured putting his pen into her ink bottle would bring to mind some unpleasant thoughts. He couldn't do things like that now, though- Gilbert was in his way, and now his own sister had turned against him.

When Jane took her seat, Tillie leaned over and asked her, "Is Prissy sick now, too?"

Jane nodded and then looked at the desk ahead and said, "I see Diana's still out." Then she had a thought. She moved up to Diana's seat. Anne looked over at her, surprised.

"I thought since Diana's out today I might sit with you. Prissy's out, too," she told her. "I hope _we_ don't get sick." She said 'we' in a confiding sort of way, leaning in toward Anne, trying to make it seem as though they were old friends.

Anne felt surprised, but smiled at her. Maybe she was making a friend, finally. She was glad that Jane seemed to want to be her friend- especially since she was without Diana for the time being, and it was hard to sit with the girls when she didn't have her bosom friend beside her.

Jane went on, "I bet you didn't have any trouble with the math homework, did you? I did. I wish I was as smart as you. Maybe while we eat lunch today you could give me some pointers?"

Anne couldn't help grinning. "Sure," she said. Then she admitted humbly, "I mean, I'm still catching up in math, really. But I liked last night's homework. Word problems are _so_ more interesting than regular problems."

Mr. Phillips called the class to attention and began the day with geography.


	102. Trying

At lunch time Josie treated Jane like a traitor for choosing Anne over her.

And while Ruby and Tillie looked like they didn't _really_ want to stick with Josie, they ultimately did.

When Jane saw that Josie was not only against Anne but against _her_ now, she took Anne's arm and said, "Let's go sit over there, Anne. I really need your help…"

Jane sat down with Anne and pretended to be interested in the math problems. She felt unhappy. She didn't want the group to be split up, and she felt a bit resentful- not necessarily of Anne, but of Billy. Why had he put her in this situation? And now she felt she _owed_ it to Anne to be a friend to her, but she didn't want it to affect her friendship with the other girls.

And Anne was _okay_ , she thought, there were lots of things that were very _nice_ about Anne. But she also thought Anne was just a _bit_ strange. But maybe that was just jitters; Anne seemed to talk much more when she got nervous. Maybe once she settled down and had a few friends, she'd relax.

Jane was glad when school was over.

Feeling it was her duty, she asked Anne if she'd like to walk home together, as far as they could until they had to go their separate ways. Anne bit her lip.

She would be walking with Gilbert, but she also couldn't see herself walking with Jane because Billy would of course be going in the same direction and even if he didn't walk alongside them, he'd surely be nearby.

She finally said no. "…But thank you _so_ much for asking," she said with a kind smile.

Jane smiled back. "See you tomorrow, then, okay?"

When Anne met Gilbert in the woods, she told him the latest developments.

Gilbert was glad Anne was beginning to be more accepted, but he felt bad for her that the girl who was initiating friendship with her was also the one girl whose house she'd never want to go over to.


	103. The Crooked Path

On Friday morning, as she slowly awoke in her bed, she had a brief moment where she felt normal- until it hit her that her world was still in turmoil, and Billy was back at school again.

His first day back had been uneventful. He had ignored her and nothing had happened. And he had told her he'd leave her alone before.

Shouldn't that have made things okay?

But it didn't. She could not have _expectations_. Would the day pass by without incident, or would it be the day he changed his mind?

…It was truly exhausting to go into that building every morning worrying about _him_.

The fresh blanket of snow that had fallen overnight was not enough to lift her spirits. She gazed out her window in the morning and felt like a deflated balloon.

Before, the snow felt like a surprise party- although Anne had never been to one, she could imagine the breathless anticipation of it and the subsequent delight.

Now the snow seemed dreary and hopeless.

A thought, heavy as lead, dropped on her:

 _Winter will be such a long time..._

She had thought that what had happened, bad as it was, would get better over time, like a slow and steady incline…each day getting easier, until finally things would be back to normal.

But it didn't seem to work that way. There was no straight path going up- instead, the path zigzagged and jumped up and down and threw her for a loop every day.

Whenever she had a good day, she thought happily that things were finally changing. _It won't be long now_ , she'd thought _so_ many times.

But then the next day, or the day after, she was at rock bottom again.

She wondered hopelessly if the rest of her _life_ would be this way- just a spiral up and down, never knowing what the next day would be like. Ever since that day in the woods, she bounced back and forth between carefree and fearful, between hope and despair.

And even when she was calm, she knew it wouldn't last.

 _The eye_ , she remembered…

She'd read a book, once, about the tropics, and she remembered that there was something called 'the eye of the storm'.

When a storm hit, there was a brief period of time in which everything became peaceful. It was calm and quiet and still.

It was a deceptive stillness, though- it was only calm for a brief time because you were at the center of the swirling storm. You couldn't enjoy the peace, because all the while you knew that the storm was about to hit you again with full force.

That was her life now- a storm. If she wasn't in the throws of it, she was only in the eye, just waiting to get hit again by the harshness of this world.

 _Why won't this go away?_ She wondered. _Will it_ _ **ever**_ _go away?_

She slowly got dressed and went downstairs, wanting only to crawl back under the covers and wait for spring.


	104. A Harbinger of Glad Tidings

_When will it be spring?_ she thought miserably as she walked toward the woods.

As if he'd read her mind, the first thing Gilbert said when she approached him was, "I read in the farmers' almanac that we're supposed to have a short winter this year."

"That's music to my ears," Anne said, lifting her boots higher to trudge up the hill. "Winter isn't doing much for my spirits."

"Well…you've got a lot going on," he said quietly, looking at her from the side.

She looked down.

"The shortened daylight isn't good for anybody." He finished. "But it won't be long."

Anne looked at him. "Well you, Gilbert Blythe, are a harbinger of glad tidings."

Gilbert laughed. Something about the way she spoke brightened his days.

Other people just… _talked_. They had a thought, and that thought came out of their mouth straight like an arrow.

But Anne had a _million_ thoughts swirling around in her mind like snowflakes, every one _unique_ , and before she let them go, she dressed them up as if preparing a Christmas tree.

"I hope so! They're saying only about twelve weeks of cold weather, maybe even a bit less," he told her.

Anne stopped. "Of course winter could drag out forever, so I'm glad it _won't_ …but….when you say it _that way_ it sounds like a long time…maybe if I _re-phrase_ it? Twelve weeks is three months." She thought about that a moment, then she shook her head. "No, saying three months makes it worse."

"Eleven weeks," he corrected. "We've already had one."

Anne nodded. "Thank you for pointing that out. It helps _immensely_. Eleven does sound like a lot less than twelve."

"Glad I could help," Gilbert said, smiling at her.

"Is the farmers' almanac usually very accurate?" She asked now.

Gilbert nodded. "Oh, absolutely. You can set your watch by it."

This may not necessarily be true, he thought, but she didn't need to know that.

"Winter'll be over before you know it." He said confidently.


	105. Dedication

Friday passed without incident, so Gilbert hoped Anne would feel better, but she didn't seem to. And when it was time for them say goodbye on Friday afternoon, Anne looked so downtrodden at having to separate that Gilbert was worried about her.

He wished she'd tell her family about how she was feeling…even if she didn't tell them about Billy's attack, she could at least let them know she was struggling with feeling sad and anxious. Maybe over time they'd pick up on why. If they figured it out on their own, she'd never even have to tell them.

It worried him how forcefully she could push away the realities of life…her ability to imagine was a beautiful thing and it seemed to have been the tool she needed to get through her darkest days as an orphan…but it had a dark side of its own: She had learned to hide. She had become so proficient at masking depression, and, Gilbert thought, how could anyone ever help her if they couldn't see that anything was wrong?

He bit his lip, watching her.

One thing was for sure: she had a mind of her own, and while he wanted to keep pressing her forward, he knew there was no point- if she was determined not to, no one would be able to make her.

Seeing her eyes- that precious glimpse into her soul- begin to cloud over with darkness, Gilbert felt a desperate desire to bring light to them. So he suddenly spoke up: "Hey, tell you what. Come out to this spot tomorrow- Saturday- about mid-afternoon. I've got something I want to leave here for you."

Gilbert had absolutely no plan for what he was going to leave there, but he'd figure something out.

"Then I want to leave something here for you, too," she said, her face lighting up.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I _want_ to," she said. "Don't spoil my fun."

He laughed. "All right," he said. "Tell you what. I'll come here and leave something for you about mid-day, and then I'll come back in the evening to see what you've left for me. All right?"

"All right," Anne said, smiling.

Gilbert could leave her more easily now, because he was leaving her with a smile and light in her eyes.

 _Now what_ , he thought, _to_ _bring_ _her_?


	106. A Mystifying Surprise

Friday night and Saturday morning were better because even though everything still felt wrong, she had a surprise to look forward to: Gilbert was going to leave something for her at the spot where they usually met each other.

It would have been nice if they could have planned to stay and talk to each other a while, but that wouldn't do- she would have had to explain to Marilla some sort of reason for why she was leaving to spend time outside and she couldn't even use playing as an excuse because a few days ago Marilla had told her, "no more playing in the snow, now- it's much too cold."

She wasn't even sure how she was going to explain why she needed to go out and walk to the end of the meadow to get whatever it was Gilbert was leaving for her, and that would only take a few minutes.

She decided to leave when Marilla wouldn't notice her. When Marilla was down in the cellar getting out some of the vegetables they had canned for the winter, Anne grabbed her coat and went as quickly as she could. It wasn't more than a couple minutes before she arrived at the edge of the meadow where she always met Gilbert.

She didn't see anything at first.

Then, walking around, she noticed a small pile of stones on top of an overturned log.

That must be where he'd marked it. She looked underneath them and found something flat and limp, like a magazine or newspaper. Gilbert had rolled it up in wax paper to keep the wet snow off of it.

She thought maybe she should wait until she got back in the house to open it, but she was too excited to wait. She unrolled it.

It _was_ a magazine. It wasn't new, it looked like it had been read several times, with dog-eared pages. She looked at the publishing date. It was old _. It must be from his father_ , she thought.

" _Tales of the Mystifying_ ," she whispered the title aloud. A shiver went through her.

There was an illustration of an elf on the cover, with a headline that said, " _Panpipe music lures child to elfin village_ ". Underneath it, it said _"And 46 other strange, true tales to leave you speechless and amazed!"_

She took it into the house, softly closing the door and slipping out of her coat. When she passed Marilla in the kitchen, she hid it behind her back. This was no _Tales of Christian Endurance_ , and she felt quite certain that Marilla would not approve.


	107. Anne Shirley, Author

Anne wanted to dive headfirst into Gilbert's father's magazine, but first she needed to figure out what _she_ could give _him_.

The trouble was, she didn't really have anything.

She looked at her dresser and the things she'd laid on it.

She'd been collecting various colors of pebbles, trying to get one in every shade from rust red to sky blue (Marilla had asked, " _Why_ are you bringing rocks into the house?" and Anne had tried to explain that when you see rocks on the ground you don't notice them, but if you pick them up and look at them- _really_ look at them- you notice all of the " _intricacies_ ", she'd told Marilla. "Intricacies, eh?" Matthew had asked, bemused. "It was on our spelling list this week," Anne explained excitedly. "Isn't it a positively delicious word?") but even though she liked her pebble collection, she didn't think giving those was much of a present.

She had a button string she'd started. Marilla had told her that when _she_ was a young girl, having a button string was the thing to do. Girls would collect buttons and trade them, and you were most impressive if you had the longest string of buttons. And, Marilla had added, "It's a _practical_ thing to collect, because it's useful- you'll always need them in your sewing." Anne liked her button string, but she didn't want to think about sewing. She'd rather think about her rocks and wonder how rocks got to be different colors and if there were different names for different types of stones. Anyway, even though she knew Gilbert had to do all his own sewing, she still didn't think a button string made a very good present for a boy.

She looked at the other things she'd put on her dresser.

She had a fossil she'd come across in the stream. She knew it was a fossil, but she didn't have a book that would tell her what kind it might be.

She had a big collection of pressed flowers. She was pressing them with wax paper and books. She had started out with dried flowers, but Marilla had not liked her doing that in the house, either. She hadn't known Anne was going to do it until she'd walked into the pantry and the flowers hanging upside down hit her in the face. Anne had explained that you had to have a dark, dry place to do it, and the pantry seemed like a good spot. Marilla had said, exasperated, "When you asked me for a spare hanger and some string, I ought to have asked what it was for." She said Anne was going to bring bugs into the house doing that. So Anne had to stop, and switch to pressed flowers. The flowers were lovely …But she couldn't give flowers to a boy.

Anyway, none of that seemed special enough to give him.

She wanted to give him something to read, like he'd given her, but she didn't have anything to read besides her school books and the books Marilla and Matthew had, which of course she couldn't give away.

Then she had a thought.

Maybe she could give him something to read that she had written. But…did she have anything good enough? She couldn't give him anything with romantic love in it, that would be too embarrassing. She began looking through her papers to find something decent.

She finally decided on The Tale of Persephone and the Dragon, which she'd written the day she had to sit with Billy. It wasn't about love, it was about a brave girl slaying a horrible dragon.

When Billy had grabbed the paper away from her, he'd ripped it. But that was okay; she'd re-write it. In her best handwriting. And maybe she could even add pictures.

She worked on it for what seemed like hours, until at last it was perfect. She felt very pleased with herself. She used the wax paper Gilbert had brought her the magazine in, and rolled it up tight.

She waited until Marilla was busy and slipped out again, running this time, to the spot Gilbert had left her his magazine. She placed her story carefully on the log, being sure the wax paper was keeping it clean, and then piled up the stones the same way he had.

She was about to leave, but then had another thought. She went back and used the sharp end of one rock to scratch a smiley face into another and then set them back up. She hoped he would notice the smiley face there before he lifted the rocks away.

She started quickly for home, glancing back at it once, smiling.

Marilla didn't hear her come in, thankfully, and she was able to get back upstairs with no notice.

She was excited to dive into the magazine, now, but hesitated. She had one more important thing to do.

She took a piece of paper and folded it in half. Then she went down to where Marilla kept a basket of fabric scraps left over from various sewing projects. She dug through until she found a piece of light blue cloth that was almost the same shade as one of Diana's blue dresses. Then she found a bit of lace.

She went back upstairs with scissors and a jar of paste. She cut a heart out of the light blue fabric scrap and then pasted it onto the paper. Then she took the bit of lace and pasted it over top. She was making a get well card for Diana.


	108. Forever

His father had dozed off, and Gilbert was reading Anne's story in front of the fire.

He read _The Tale of Persephone and the Dragon_ first with surprise, then with amusement, and finally with admiration. She really had potential as a writer, and her story was good enough to be published, he thought.

He remembered what Anne had said about letters: _"_ _Once someone has your words written down, they get to keep a little piece of you_ _forever_ _."_

He folded the paper and held it to his chest for a second, gazing into the fire and feeling warm.


	109. The Blythes at Home

On Monday morning when Anne met Gilbert, he looked serious. He did not have his school books with him, or any lunch.

"Gilbert, are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I'm going to walk you to school and then I'm going to head home." He looked like he was thinking. "I think I should stay home today."

"Why?" she asked, concerned, "Is it your father? Is he worse?"

He said, "He says he's fine; he's telling me to go on to school, but I'd just feel better if I stayed home a day or two. He wasn't doing well over the weekend."

Anne looked upset for him. "I'm so sorry."

"It'll be all right. But I'll walk you to school and then I'll make sure I'm there again when school lets out to get you back home safely, so don't worry about that."

"I'm not worried about that," Anne said, "I'm worried about your father. Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head. "It'll be ok." But he looked somber.

When they reached the end of the woods where they'd come out to school, Anne hesitated, biting her lip.

They stopped walking and stood there a second, not speaking.

Gilbert said, "I think if you just stay with the girls- no, actually, you know what? Stay with Mr. Phillips. I know he's not exactly helpful, but stay by him. He's the teacher, after all."

Anne nodded, trying to feel brave. She didn't want to go without him.

But she also wanted to put on a happy, confident face so that she wouldn't let Gilbert know she felt troubled…because if she let on that it was a hardship for her to go alone, it would only make him feel bad. He'd feel caught in the middle. And he ought to be with his father.

But Gilbert, studying her face, knew her.

Impulsively, he took her hand and squeezed it.

Surprised, she looked down at their hands. Both wearing thick gloves, they couldn't actually feel each other's hands…but just her arm being pulled by him comforted her.

He didn't say anything, and neither did she.

Finally, Anne took a deep breath, preparing to let go and leave him.

But suddenly Gilbert blurted out, "Feel like playing hooky?"

"What?"

"Why don't you come with me?" He said with a smile. "My dad would love to meet you."

Anne was startled. But then she said, "You said he's worse. I can't…he won't rest as easily if he has a visitor."

Gilbert shook his head. "On the contrary, you might make him feel better. You have a knack for that." He smiled at her.

"Let's go," he said, pulling her hand gently again.

As they walked back through the woods, Anne said, "Is he doing awfully?"

Gilbert said, "No, he can be up for a little while before he tires out and needs to take a rest." He explained, "I mostly just want to be there so he isn't getting in and out of bed by himself. I didn't feel right being away because I was afraid that if he tried to get around by himself he might stumble and fall."

As they got to Gilbert's house, Anne felt nervous. "Are you _sure_ this is all right? He doesn't even know I'm coming…"

Gilbert reached forward to open the door for her. "Don't worry," he said quietly, ushering her in. "You're welcome here."

As Anne walked in to the house, she felt how warm it was, and it felt wonderful after being out in the cold.

When she came into the parlor she saw Gilbert's father, sitting in a cozy chair by the fire, wrapped up in a thick robe. He looked at her, then Gilbert.

"Dad, this is my friend Anne- the one I told you about," Gilbert said.

Anne looked at him. …The one he'd told him about?

She looked back at Gilbert's father. "Hello," she said nervously. "I'm sorry you've been ill, and…and I'm sorry for the intrusion…"

Gilbert looked at her and then said to his dad, "I asked Anne to come, school didn't seem to be…uh…" he trailed off.

His dad didn't seem to think they needed to bother with any explanations. "Welcome, Anne," he said. "I'm glad to meet you. I've heard quite a lot about you."

Anne glanced back at Gilbert, alarmed. "Only good things, I _hope_." She said in a hard voice, warning him that she'd be angry if he'd told his dad what had happened to her.

Gilbert knew exactly what she was thinking and he nodded, confirming: "Only good things."

This exchange went over Gilbert's father's head, as it wasn't unusual for people to say "good things, I hope" as a joke when someone says they've heard a lot about you.

"Dad, let me get your breakfast," He said to Anne, "He wanted to wait till I came back."

He started to turn toward the kitchen.

"I can help you," Anne said quickly, following him. For some reason she felt nervous about being around Gilbert's father. She just didn't know what to say to him.

She went to the stove. "How can I help?"

"Hmm," Gilbert said. "Usually before school I just have to enough time to make oatmeal and toast. But since I'm home today…dad?" He called out, leaning back into the parlor. "Do you feel like pancakes?"

"Don't go to all that trouble," his dad answered. "Something quick and easy is fine."

"Pancakes it is," Gilbert said, disregarding that with a smile. He whispered to Anne, "I know he feels bad relying on me this way…I wish he didn't feel bad about it."

He began to get started. Anne didn't really do anything to help, but she put things away as he got done with them.

"Does he know you brought me his magazine?" Anne thought of suddenly. She explained, "I noticed the publishing date on the cover, and so I figured it belonged to him when he was around our ages?"

"Yeah, I asked him first. He was glad to do it."

"Does he know _anything_ at all…?" Anne began.

"No," Gilbert assured her. "When I first started to come get you before school, I needed to leave earlier in the mornings, so I explained why, but I didn't tell him your secret. I just told him there was a boy at school who was bothering you, so I'd offered to walk with you to make sure you got to and from school safely."

"What did he say?" Anne asked.

"He asked if the teacher knew. I told him that Mr. Phillips doesn't seem to care too much about bullying."

He did not tell her that his father had looked at him with pride and told him that he was happy to know he'd raised a gentleman.

When the first few pancakes were ready, Gilbert pointed out where plates were and she got them down. She only got two, but when Gilbert saw that, he said, "We need another one."

Anne said, "Oh, no, you don't have to feed me, Gilbert. Anyway I already ate."

"Did you? You actually ate?" He asked, sounding surprised.

Anne narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I _ate_ ," she said.

"Glad to hear it," he said. "But you can eat again. You've got a lot of missed meals to make up for. Come on, give me another plate."

Anne just rolled her eyes.

Gilbert got another plate down and began piling pancakes on it. "Mmm, smells delicious, if I do say so myself."

Anne looked at the pancakes. Then she said, "Fine. I will eat a pancake. _One_ pancake. And only because as a guest in your home it would be impolite to refuse."

He smiled to himself.

When Anne saw him smiling, she said in a warning voice, "I said _one_. And you better not make it the size of a dinner plate!"

"What do you like on your pancakes? Butter? Syrup? My dad likes pancakes with preserves."

He would take the first few pancakes for himself and give them the last ones, so that theirs would be the hottest.

He fixed his own with butter and a generous amount of syrup. After he had his ready, he began pouring more batter in to make Anne's pancake. While hers began bubbling, he got a clean knife to dip into the preserves to put on his father's.

"Is it…It's not strawberry, is it?" Anne asked, not being able to identify what kind of preserves were in the jar but thinking it looked too dark to be strawberry.

"No, it's raspberry. You want yours with it?" Gilbert asked.

"I've never had it before," Anne said.

Gilbert said, "Here, why don't you take this in to my dad, and I'll be right out, okay?"

He handed her the plate.

"There's a tray on the table next to his chair," Gilbert told her.

Anne brought the plate in, saying, "Mr. Blythe, the pancakes are ready…" She felt shy of Gilbert's father. She set the plate down on the coffee table for a minute so she could move the table by his chair closer before she set the plate on the tray.

"You're eating with us, aren't you?" He asked her. He had such a lovely smile, she thought. His smile was warm and happy.

She nodded, saying, "Gilbert is quite insistent that I partake of his pancake feast."

Mr. Blythe laughed, but it wasn't a teasing laugh, she realized, it was a pleasant sort of laugh, as if he was delighted by her very presence.

Anne smiled and pulled the tray up closer. "Is that all right?" she asked when she'd gotten it settled.

"Yes, thank you. We tend to just eat in the parlor nowadays," Mr. Blythe said. "I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, no," Anne said quickly. "Thank you for letting…for not minding…I hope I'm not a bother." Her face flushed.

Gilbert came back in with his plate, set it on the table and then went back in to get glasses of milk for them all.

The last time he came in, he had Anne's plate. He set it down in front of her, and said, "Here you go, your _one_ pancake."

He _had_ made hers bigger than the rest, but she couldn't even be annoyed with him because of what else he'd done for her: Her pancake was spread with raspberry preserves, just like he'd made for his father, but on Anne's pancake he'd carefully sprinkled Confectioner's sugar in a swirly, lacy pattern. It looked like a big snowflake was laying on her pancake.

When Gilbert's father saw Anne's plate, he looked at Gilbert with a twinkle in his eye.

Gilbert sat down, took his own plate, and then looked up at them, noticing his father. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," Gilbert's father said. "That's very pretty," he said, gesturing to Anne's pancake. He was still smiling.

"Is it…flour?" Anne asked, not having seen it before.

"It is fairy dust from heaven," he said, repeating Anne's unusual words for 'snow'. Then he smiled. "It's just sugar."

"It doesn't look like sugar," she said, tasting it. "Mmm, it's wonderful!"

Gilbert smiled. "It isn't regular sugar, it's confectionary sugar. You've never had it before? On your birthday cake or anything?"

Anne did not want to tell him there had been no birthday cakes in her past.

She took another bite.

"Gilbert tells me you like to read," Mr. Blythe said, seeming extra cheerful for some reason.

"Likes to," Gilbert spoke up, "It's a passion. She's read straight through our geography textbook at least three times." He smiled at Anne, "It's no wonder you got a perfect score on the geography exam."

"Well, you got a perfect score, too, Gilbert" Anne spoke up. "Do you like to read, too, Mr. Blythe? …Thank you for letting me borrow your magazine. It was nice of you."

Mr. Blythe smiled at her. "I do like to read," he answered. "And I've got lots of books, perhaps you'd like to borrow some."

"That would be _so_ nice! …if it isn't any trouble."

They continued chatting as they ate breakfast. Everyone was too full for seconds, and then Anne offered to wash the dishes for them, "so you can sit and chat with your father a while", she said.

"No, no," Mr. Blythe said. "We won't put you to work. Sit in here and make yourself comfortable. So Gilbert says you're a Cuthbert now. How do you like it?"

Anne smiled. "I like it immensely. The Cuthberts are perfectly lovely and most hospitable."

They talked a while, until Gilbert's father needed to lie down again. Gilbert helped him to his room, and it was a little while before he came back. Anne just sat by the fire, feeling content. She liked being here, and she liked being with Gilbert's father.

When Gilbert came back, he said, "Well my father certainly seems enamored with you."

Anne breathed a sigh of relief. "Does he really like me? I'm so glad, because I like him, too."

Gilbert said, "He sure does. And he told me I ought to get out the rest of the magazines for you."

Gilbert lifted a heavy quilt off of a wooden trunk and handed it to Anne. Then he opened the trunk and lifted out a big pile of magazines. He brought them over to her and set them on the low table.

"I'll go clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes," he said. "And you can read."

Anne shook her head, standing up. She set the quilt down on her chair. "Why don't you let me wash the dishes for you? You made the food." She said.

Gilbert shook his head. "You're a guest."

"Let's do it together, then," she insisted.

Gilbert relented. They went into the kitchen and talked as Gilbert washed the dishes and Anne dried them.

When they finished, they went back into the parlor. Gilbert picked up the quilt and set it on the floor by the fire. "I thought maybe we could sit here- do you want to?"

Anne nodded, settling herself on the thick quilt in front of the cozy fire.

Gilbert took the pillows from the sofa and put them down.

He rifled through the magazines once he was settled comfortably next to Anne on the quilt. "Some of these stories are pretty crazy," he commented. "I was surprised my dad read them."

"Do you think any of them are true? Do you think he believes them?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I don't think so, I think he just thought they were fun to read."

"I don't mind outlandish stories," Anne said. "I like them. Even if you don't believe a word they say, they still provide _so_ much scope for the imagination."

Anne looked at the date on the cover of the magazine. "It's interesting," she said. "To see what your parents liked when they were your age."

She picked one up and read the headline, "Skeletons of giants found in South Dakota."

Gilbert held up his. "Fairies steal infant and replace it with lookalike."

She rifled through hers. Then she stopped. "Not all of the stories are strange. Here's one about the prime minister…and here's another one about how plants make oxygen."

"There's one in here explaining how daguerreotypes are made," Gilbert said.

"Oh, I've always wanted to know how that works!" Anne exclaimed.

Gilbert laughed and handed her the magazine.

She read it aloud, excitement in her voice. Gilbert sat watching her.

"Fascinating," he commented when she was finished.

She smiled at him and found another article.

The quilt and the pillows and the fire made a cozy little nest for the two, and they relaxed, content in each other's company.

They continued looking at the magazines, sometimes stopping to read aloud something interesting they'd found and talk about it with each other, and sometimes reading on their own, sitting in the quiet together- the only noise being the crackling of the fire and the sound of pages being slowly turned.

It was nice.

* * *

Author's Note, I definitely want to write this story, but there have been some chapters that are more difficult emotionally to write…but I wrote this chapter a couple days ago and I have been excited to get this one up because this chapter was so much fun for me write! So I hope you think this chapter was fun to read too. : )


	110. A Winter Picnic

"Are you finished with that article about Sasquatch?" Anne asked.

Gilbert did not look up at her. Intentionally keeping his face and tone completely neutral and expressionless, he said, "Almost, but not Yeti."

Anne's face crinkled up...and suddenly she was laughing. She hadn't laughed _so_ heartily in a _very_ long time, and it felt wonderful.

The joke hadn't even been _that_ funny, but once she started laughing, she couldn't seem to stop. She rocked with laughter.

Gilbert looked up now, grinning at her.

"That was _so_ bad," Anne said, the words escaping amidst the laughter.

"It made you laugh," Gilbert said, laughing himself.

"It made me laugh _because_ it was so bad!"

She was still laughing as Gilbert's dad walked in.

Gilbert stopped laughing and jumped up. "Dad," he said, "You should have called me, I would have come and helped you. You shouldn't be up by yourself."

"I'm quite all right," he said, smiling, "I feel perfectly fine, son, just like I've been telling you for the past three days."

"But I should've checked on you," Gilbert insisted. Then he looked at the clock. Where had the time gone? "Wow, I'm sorry, I didn't even notice it was long past lunch time…I didn't even fix anything to eat yet. Do you feel all right?

Anne stood up. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Mr. Blythe…I should have been quieter…"

He smiled. "I like to hear your laughing," he said. "Don't be quiet on my account."

"Here, let me help you to your chair, dad," Gilbert said, "And I'll get lunch now."

Mr. Blythe looked back and forth from Anne to the quilt and pillows in front of the fire. Then he said, "Actually, come to think of it, I don't feel much like sitting up; I think I'd rather eat in bed, if you don't mind."

"But you just said you felt fine," Gilbert asked, worried, "Are you sure you're not worse?"

His dad replied, "I do feel fine, but it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to eat on my own. I mean, to eat in bed. You two have lunch out here."

Gilbert helped his dad back to bed and then he and Anne went into the kitchen to fix lunch together. After Gilbert brought lunch to his dad, then they took their own lunch to the parlor to sit on the quilt again.

"It's a picnic," Gilbert realized, looking at the quilt underneath them.

"We're lucky, then, most people don't get to have a picnic in the wintertime," Anne said happily.

"I wanted to tell you how much I liked your story," Gilbert finally said.

"Oh, did you?" Anne asked, suddenly feeling a bit shy about sharing that with him.

"Yeah. When I saw you left a story for me, I knew it would be good, but I had no _idea_. I hope you keep writing, Anne. You've got a real future in it."

When it got close to the time school would let out, Gilbert's dad wanted to come out and say goodbye to Anne.

"Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Mr. Blythe. Your home is lovely, and I am exceedingly grateful for your hospitality." She said, hoping she had made a good impression.

"Any time," he said. "You come back and see me, all right?"

Then he said, "Gilbert, you two didn't finish all the magazines, did you? Why don't you get one for her to take home with her so she has something to read later?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Anne said, even though she would _love_ to take one home.

"Nonsense," his dad said good-naturedly, "It would be my pleasure."

Gilbert brought one over. "How 'bout this one? It talks about the history of the printing press, and how books are made. Someone who's going to become an author ought to know those things."

Anne took it, a pleased smile flushing her face. Gilbert smiled back.

Mr. Blythe stood watching them smiling at each other.

Gilbert suddenly said, "Uh…well…I better get you home. I'll be right back, dad, it'll only take a few minutes."

"No hurry," his dad responded, "You take your time getting this little lady home safe, I'll be just fine while you're gone."

Gilbert opened the door for Anne and then stepped out himself. His dad patted him on the shoulder as he left, and then watched the two walk through the snow together, growing ever smaller in the distance.

* * *

Wow, I've never had so many reviews and so quickly! I had fun writing the chapter about them being at Gilbert's house and I am so happy that so many of you liked it as much as I did! Thank you so much, your reviews mean the world to me and it is so nice to hear from you guys :o)


	111. Health Effects

On Tuesday, Anne and Gilbert went back to school, and Anne brought her card to give Diana, but Diana was still out with her cold. Anne was disappointed, and she felt sorry for Diana.

On Wednesday, Diana still wasn't back.

After Gilbert dropped her off at the edge of the meadow on Wednesday afternoon, Anne thought she'd walk over to Diana's house for a moment and drop off the card…but the thought of walking alone outdoors made her anxious.

 _That's ridiculous_ , she scolded herself. _Diana's house is the closest house to Green Gables out of anyone's, it's hardly a long walk at all!_

But she couldn't.

And then she began to get angry that the outdoors had been ruined for her. She _loved_ being outdoors. Now she felt panic.

 _That's got to go away,_ she insisted. _Don't be upset over it now. You'll be able to be outdoors all you want. Every awful thing will go away. …Sometime._

She decided that she'd wake up earlier on Thursday to see if she and Gilbert had time to drop it off before heading to school, and if not, if he'd mind to head in that direction after school so she could stop in for a moment and see Diana.

She felt it was unfair for her to rely on him so much, but she didn't know what else to do.

She didn't eat her dinner that night. She cut food into little pieces and pushed them around on her plate until it looked like she'd eaten a little.

She felt guilty about the trouble she had to be causing Gilbert, and he didn't need any more worry, what with his father to take care of.

She felt anxious about being alone, though, and she felt anxious about _being_ anxious. It sounded laughable to her, but it was true: she didn't just have anxiety about places, people, and events…she felt anxiety at knowing that she was going to feel anxious.

Lying in bed at night, her stomach growled and her throat was parched. She didn't get up out of bed to get any water because she didn't have the energy to.

Thursday morning, she didn't wake up early like she wanted, instead, Marilla had to come wake her up, only to find Anne pale and sick.

"My goodness, you're shaking," Marilla asked her. She felt her forehead. "You don't have a fever."

Anne didn't say anything. She tumbled out of bed and reached desperately for her chamber pot. Marilla kept her from falling over as she dry-heaved into the bowl.

Marilla went to get Anne's washbasin and pitcher from her dresser and cleaned her face.

Anne's hands were shaking. "I think I'm going to throw up," she said.

"Do you think it's something you ate? …But you haven't eaten since dinner. Come to think of it, you hardly touched your dinner." Then she thought, "It's your sugars," she decided.

"My what?" Anne asked, feeling her stomach turn over. She swallowed. She didn't understand why she needed to throw up when there was nothing in her to come out.

"I noticed you hardly ate last night, but I didn't think much about it, because when you've got the choice between using your mouth for eating or using your mouth for talking, eating takes second place."

"I still don't know what you mean," Anne said, feeling like she was about to die.

"When a person goes too long without eating, they get shaky. Or when they've eaten too many sweets. In your case it's that you didn't eat. …It all affects your sugars. You need some soda crackers and water. It'll settle your stomach. If this ever happens again, that's what you must do…or drink some juice."

Anne wasn't listening. But once Marilla put a glass of water to her lips and helped her take a few crackers, it was only a few minutes before she was fine again.

"I don't feel sick anymore," she said.

"Good. Don't go so long on an empty stomach and it won't happen. And be sure you're getting fluids."

After she washed and dressed, she sat down to breakfast, with Marilla pushing her to eat more than she really wanted.

But Anne ate it all, never wanting to experience that shaky, lightheaded, nauseous feeling again.

She wondered if what Marilla had said about "your sugars" was true. She hoped that that was _all_ it was. Mrs. Hammond's morning sickness was fresh in her mind.

Because she'd taken longer to get ready that day, she knew she and Gilbert would not have time to drop the card off at Diana's house. Oh well, maybe Diana would be in school today. She hoped so.


	112. Billy is Tested

Anne was glad she hadn't made them late to school with her bout of "morning sickness". She tucked Diana's card into her coat pocket and hoped her friend would be there today.

She bumped into Diana in the cloakroom.

"Diana!" she shouted.

"Anne!" Diana exclaimed, giving her a warm hug.

"I made something for you while you were gone," Anne said, getting the card out. "It's supposed to be a get well card. I'm sorry I didn't bring it over to your house…but, you're back now, so I suppose it worked."

Diana fussed over the card. "It was so creative of you to use fabric in a card!" she said, touching the lace Anne had cut into the shape of a heart and positioned over the blue fabric she'd pasted to the paper. "What a pretty heart. And how did you ever manage to find a color that exactly matched my dress?"

Tillie had come over to see what Diana was talking about. She said, "Anne, you're so nice. I almost hope I'll get sick so you'll make me one."

They all laughed.

Josie made her way over, not wanting to miss anything, and Diana handed her the card. "Look what Anne made," she said.

Josie tried to look unimpressed, but finally admitted, "It almost looks store-bought."

Anne felt it was going to be a good day.

Gilbert slipped through the door, and, ignoring Anne, put his coat away and went to his desk. He had, as always, waited at the edge of the woods a few minutes so that he wouldn't walk in with her and upset the girls.

The door opened again and this time it brought the Andrews in with a blast of cold air. Prissy went past them quickly, but Jane stopped to welcome Diana back.

Billy stamped his boots on the floor to get the snow off.

The girls looked at him making a racket, and Jane said, "Couldn't you have done that on the porch? The floor's wet now." She rolled her eyes.

"Don't tell me what to do," he said.

Then he saw Josie holding a card with a lacy heart on it. Was it from a boy?

"Who gave you that?" he asked, shoving past Jane to look at the card.

Josie held it up. "It isn't mine. It's Diana's."

Tillie provided, "Anne made it for her."

Billy pulled away quickly. "You ought to have warned me. I almost touched it. I could've caught something. Like fleas."

Anne's lip trembled in anger.

Diana said, "Billy, why don't you go away?"

Anne said, "You're _ridiculous_." She held her head high and turned and walked out of the cloakroom. The other girls followed her.

When they were gone, Jane yanked Billy's arm. "When I get home and walk through the door I'm going straight to mother. I've had it with you. You'll never change."

"Oh, shove off," Billy said. "I wasn't even mean to her. That's nothing she doesn't hear all the time."

"From _you_!" Jane said.

"Look, don't tell anybody anything. I'll lay off her, okay?"

Jane shook her head. "I don't believe you. But you better think of something you can do to be nice, because school is about to start, and that means you've got about eight hours to convince me that you can care about her like a decent human being."

She put her lunch on the shelf and walked past him.

Billy angrily threw his coat onto a hook and went to his desk.

He was annoyed. It wasn't enough to just leave Anne alone. Now he had to _care_.


	113. Walden Pond and False Words

The day began with recitations, which further helped Anne in her quest to have a good day.

Billy was not going to have a good day. Jane had said she'd tell their parents, and he had eight hours to convince her not to.

Their readers had selections from Henry David Thoreau's Walden. Anne _loved_ it and wished she had the entire book. He was a man who built his own house by a pond and lived in isolation with nature. While Anne thought isolation would be awfully difficult, she supposed you didn't _have_ to have _people_ to talk to- you could talk to the birds and animals, you could talk to the flowers and trees, you could even talk to the stars in the sky- she'd done it herself often enough. And how _exquisite_ , she thought, to commune with nature so _fully_.

Although she knew she wasn't supposed to make notes in her reader, she'd used her pen and ink and re-wrote one of Thoreau's quotes in the inside of the back cover of her book: _"Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations."_ The line gave her goosebumps.

When recitations began, Anne waited excitedly to see which part she would get to read aloud. When Mr. Phillips finally got to her, she stood up to do her part of the recitation,

" _However mean your life is, meet and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise._

 _Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse._

 _The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man's abode; the snow melts before its doors as early in the spring._

 _Cultivate property like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; return to them._

 _Things do not change; we change._

 _Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts… Superfluous wealth can buy superfluities only. Money is not required to buy one necessary of the soul."_

Billy listened to Anne's recitation, trying not to laugh. Why did she read like that? It was embarrassing.

Billy's pals sat in the row in front of him. When they began to snicker, Billy tried hard to resist the urge to join in with them, and instead said loudly- to make sure Jane heard him- "Cut it out, guys!"

Anne stopped reading and looked in his direction, caught off guard.

Billy's pals both turned back to him, surprised.

"Don't talk out of turn," Mr. Phillips snapped.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Phillips, I was just telling them to stop making fun of Anne." He then turned to Anne with a repentant expression and said, "Anne, I'm sorry my friends were so rude. They must not have any appreciation for your talent."

Billy looked at Jane, triumphant. _See?_ His eyes were saying.

Gilbert was looking backward at Billy, too, surprised.

Anne was glad her part was over. She didn't know what Billy was up to, but thinking that he was enjoying her recitation made her want to stop doing it.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, and Anne was excited for lunchtime so that she could catch up with Diana.

The girls all gathered in their corner and split up their food. Anne was glad she and Marilla had made cookies, because it gave her something good to share.

"So Billy defended you," Josie said, not sounding terribly pleased about that.

Anne nodded uncomfortably.

"I wonder why," Josie continued. "I can't imagine he likes you."

"Josie! What a thing to say," Diana said. She turned to Anne comfortingly and said, "Everyone should like you, Anne. You're kind, and smart, and…and you have a wonderful imagination!"

"She'd have to have a good imagination, to believe that Billy might like her," Josie said with a laugh.

"I _don't_ think he does, and I never said that. _You're_ the one who said it, Josie Pye, and if you're so fascinated with the subject of who likes who, then maybe you'd better start being nicer, or no one's going to like you, either!" Anne burst out angrily.

The other girls stared at her, surprised at her standing up to Josie.

Josie just adjusted her bow. "Pretty girls can get beaus whether they're nice or not."

"I think Billy likes _you_ , Josie," Tillie said haltingly.

Josie blushed. But then she went back to eating her lunch as if everything was fine now.

Ruby, who had been quiet until now, suddenly spoke up, sounding bright, "Maybe Billy _does_ like Anne. Anne, you like him, don't you?! I think you should like him. He's a _much_ better choice for you than Gilbert."

Diana almost rolled her eyes, seeing what Ruby's intentions were.

Jane said firmly, "That's enough talk about Billy. Let's talk about something else."

Anne looked gratefully at her.

The afternoon was lively because they played Around the World in math.

Diana made it about halfway across the room before she and Anne faced off against each other and Anne won. Anne wondered if she ought to have answered incorrectly on purpose so that her bosom friend could have gone before her. But Diana seemed happy to sit down and let Anne move on. Anne and Gilbert were the only ones who made it all the way around the room. Eventually they faced off against each other. Neither of them ended up winning, because they both kept answering the questions correctly until at last Mr. Phillips said that was enough and they needed to move on to other things. Anne was disappointed they couldn't keep going, but it had been nice to sit next to Gilbert for a little while.

When Anne and Gilbert were walking back to their desks, Billy came up to them.

Anne shrank back from him, and Gilbert automatically looked defensive before Billy even said or did anything.

But Billy put on a superficial smile and said, "Congratulations, Anne. I'm sure you would have won if Mr. Phillips had let the game go on longer. After all, you're the smartest one in the class."

He smiled at Gilbert too, but his smile to Gilbert was a real smile, not fake- because he realized that his compliment to Anne also served as an insult to Gilbert.

Anne just stared at him. Gilbert's expression looked like he'd smelled something bad. He guided Anne past Billy and they each went to their own seats.

Josie was watching Billy unhappily.

Billy looked over at Jane and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _There. Is that enough?_

Jane gave a small shrug and Billy felt sure he'd placated her. He sighed with relief. Jane figured Billy was making an effort to be a kinder person and stop hurting Anne, and that was what she wanted.

While Jane's intentions were good, she had no idea how it was making Anne feel.

Anne felt unsettled by Billy's attention. What was he doing? She didn't like this. And it wasn't just because she wanted him to leave her alone. It was also that she could tell his smiles were fake and his words insincere, and it scared her to think that he might be trying to get her to trust him.


	114. Complications

On the way home Gilbert said, "What was that all about?"

Anne shook her head. "I don't know. But I don't like it."

Gilbert said, "Well…whatever he's up to, we won't let him do anything, okay?" He looked to her at his side, hoping to keep her from worrying.

Anne shivered in the cold. But it wasn't just the cold.

At home, she tried to eat dinner but was only able to eat her dinner roll, and she didn't even put any butter or jam on it. Marilla watched her, concerned. "Are you unwell?"

"Hmm?" Anne looked up at her. "Oh, no. I'm fine. Marilla, Matthew, do you mind if I just go to bed early?"

Marilla said, "You must eat tonight or you'll feel shaky in the morning. You're not getting enough food in your stomach, Anne."

"Oh…right," Anne said unhappily. She stabbed at her green beans with her fork. She'd _have_ to eat. …She couldn't let herself be sick in the mornings.

She forced herself to finish her green beans, at least, though her stomach was in knots from worry.

When she was getting ready for bed, Marilla knocked on her door.

Anne looked up as she came in. Marilla set down her candle and came over to Anne's bed.

"What's wrong, Marilla?" Anne asked.

Marilla sat down. "Anne, the past few days, you haven't been eating."

Anne felt a stab of panic in her chest.

"Haven't I?" she asked innocently.

"No, and at first I didn't really pick up on it as being a problem, but yesterday morning and now tonight you've worried me."

"I'm sorry," Anne said quickly.

"It's not a criticism, Anne. I'm worried. Have you felt unwell?"

Anne said, "No, no, I feel…perfectly perfect!"

Marilla paused, then said, "Well, is it something upsetting you? Is everything all right at school? I know you had trouble with the things you said about the Andrews girl, but that's all in the past now, isn't it?"

Anne hesitated. She might have said something now to Marilla, except she was afraid Marilla might tell her, _Now you see that's what can happen when you spread rumors and tell tales about people, isn't it? You must remember to think before you speak. You're always spouting off the first thought that comes to mind, never mind the consequences…_

And so she nodded confidently and said, "Yes, there's no trouble now at all. I'm fine, Marilla. Truly. I probably just had a touch of something, it's gone now."

Marilla cocked her head, as if trying to decide what she thought about Anne. Finally she said, "All right, then. You get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

Anne sighed with relief as Marilla closed the door behind her.

Marilla didn't have to come wake her up in the morning because Anne was already awake. She had woken up before the sun came up and had thrown up twice in her chamber pot.

She dragged herself out of bed, and- her hands shaking- she poured water from her pitcher into her washbasin and bathed her face.

She didn't want to go downstairs- she felt like she'd collapse- but she had to get some crackers or some juice or _something_.

So she made her way down, holding onto the railing, and grabbed the nearest thing to eat- a piece of bread from the breadbox- and, stuffing it into her mouth, she nearly choked.

She lay her head down on the table and waited for the wave of nausea to go away.

By the time Marilla and Matthew were up, she was back upstairs in her room getting ready for school. _Good_ , Anne thought, _Marilla won't have to know that this morning was like yesterday. …Just in case it's something more._

She sat down at the table for breakfast as if she hadn't already been downstairs, and ate the sausage and biscuit Marilla made for her. She tried to be cheerful as they ate so that she wouldn't let on how worried she was.

 _Nothing's wrong. I'm not having a baby. Me throwing up has nothing to do with what always happened to Mrs. Hammond. This isn't the same thing at all. Marilla was right, I just need to actually eat…and have plenty of fluids, and then…then I'll be fine._

Anne left to meet Gilbert, and in her mind she kept repeating _I'm_ _ **Not**_ _Having a Baby. Everything is fine. EverythingIsFineEverythingIsFineEverythingIsFine…_ wishing she could believe it.

She was still repeating this mantra to herself as she approached Gilbert. Something about the hot breakfast mixed with the cold air and her tired body trudging up and down through the snow made her feel nauseated again. When she reached him, she stopped and leaned against a tree for a moment.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I just need a second." She shut her eyes and counted to ten but was interrupted by Gilbert saying,

"If you're coming down with something, you shouldn't go. That bad cold is still going around."

"No," she said. "I just got a bit woozy there for a minute, I'm fine now, I'm not going to be sick again."

"Again?" He asked.

Anne opened her eyes. "Oh, I meant…well, I was sick a couple times this morning, but it was just-"

"Anne, if it's recurring you ought to stay in bed…the Cuthberts' won't make you go to school if you're sick, will they?"

"They didn't know."

"Why didn't you tell them?"

"Because it isn't anything. It was just a couple times. And I didn't want Marilla to be annoyed with me."

"Why on earth would she be annoyed with you for being sick? You can't help that." He asked. He did not understand this at all. Maybe her life with the Cuthberts' was not as straightforward as he'd thought.

"Well," Anne said. "It happened yesterday too, and she told me I wasn't eating enough, and…I just didn't want her to think I wasn't listening to her…"

"Wait- you were sick twice this morning, and now you've just felt like you might be sick again, _and_ it happened yesterday too?" Gilbert asked.

Anne felt defensive. "I am _fine_ ," she said, frustration evident in her tone. "Can we talk about something _besides_ the expulsion of breakfasts? It isn't exactly a pleasant topic!"

She marched on, and Gilbert sighed, following her.

Over at the Andrews house, Prissy was still upstairs getting ready, so Jane had a moment with Billy before they all left for school. "What are you going to do to be nice today?" she asked, putting on her winter hat.

"What?" Billy asked, confused.

" _Today_ ," Jane repeated. "Do you have a plan?"

"I was nice to her yesterday."

Jane stared at him.

Billy asked, "…I have to be nice _again_?"

Jane made a face. "Yes, _Billy_! You have to be nice _every_ day!"

"Every _day_?" Billy said, disgusted. "Jane, you're asking too much."

"Your choice," Jane said with a shrug. "Do you want me to tell mother and father now, or should I wait till after school?"

Billy glared at her and then stomped away, starting off to school without waiting for Jane or Prissy.

He wished he could dig up some dirt on Jane so that he'd have leverage, but he knew that Jane was too boring to have ever done anything wrong.

When they'd reached the school, Anne got bumped by Josie and her bookstrap fell, spewing its contents. Anne bent over to collect her things.

At Jane's expectant look, Billy bent over to pick up her things too. He picked up her chalk and put it back into the rag she had it wrapped up in, and then grabbed her reader. He handed them to her.

She hesitated, then took them. She didn't say thank you.

She turned away from him and discreetly wiped her reader off, using her coat sleeve. Billy saw what she was doing and it made him angry, but he couldn't even say anything because Jane was still hovering around him, watching him like a hawk.

Anne didn't want to use any of the things he'd touched, but she had to. Wiping her reader off on her coat sleeve did not help, and she felt sickness coming up in her throat.

She pushed it down, put her coat away, and went to her desk.

Anne saw that Josie had followed Billy out of the cloakroom and seemed to be hanging onto every word he said. _How can she like that horrible creature?_ Anne felt a sudden surge of anger mixed with her nausea when she heard Billy tell Josie she looked _pretty_.

Josie looked over at Anne, smiling triumphantly, as if to be sure Anne knew Billy liked _her_.

But Billy saw Josie looking over at Anne, and Anne looking back at her, and suddenly he spoke up, "But Anne is pretty too." He looked over at Jane to be sure she'd heard him.

Jane, in her innocence, thought Billy was doing the right thing, trying to be as nice and sweet as he could possibly be. ….She had no idea that Anne getting so much attention from Billy was making her worse, not better.

Josie glared at Billy and stomped back to her desk. _Great_ , Billy thought, _Fido ruins something else for me._

It was only a few minutes later that a note was poked underneath her elbow from behind.

It was a note from Josie. Anne opened it up and read it.

 _I don't know how Billy could possibly be attracted to_ _you_ _, but if you_ _ **DO**_ _anything with him, you're_ _FINISHED_ _here._

And in less than a minute, Anne's "morning sickness" came back. She tried to fight it off, but she couldn't, and dropped her head on her desk.

Diana looked down at her, alarmed, Anne's shallow breathing sounding frightening. "Anne," she whispered. She looked up at Mr. Phillips, who at that moment looked down and saw Anne.

"Whatever is the matter?" he asked, sounding more annoyed at the disruption in his math lesson than concerned for Anne's welfare.

"I- I think I'm sick," Anne said in a raspy voice.

Mr. Phillips sighed and said, "Do you need to go home?"

Anne pulled her head up slowly. "No." She felt she couldn't go home after telling Marilla she was fine.

She cleared her throat. "Is it all right if I step outside, just for a moment? I think the fresh air-" She cut herself off, unable to finish her sentence. She got up and dashed out of the room, the classroom door slamming behind her. She barely made it out before she was sick in the snow. After her retching had ceased, she was embarrassed of the mess she made and used her boot to push some snow over it.

In the classroom, Diana raised her hand to ask if she could go out and see to Anne, but Jane burst out with the question without even raising her hand. "Mr. Phillips, can I go with her?" she asked quickly.

Mr. Phillips nodded and went back to teaching the math lesson.

Jane got her coat, and Anne's, and went outside. She looked around for Anne, who was now near the privy, just sitting in the snow as if she didn't notice the cold.

Jane came over to her. Anne didn't look up at her.

Finally Jane knelt down, trying to keep her dress out of the snow.

"I brought your coat," she said. She held it out.

Anne didn't move at first, but after a moment she reached out to take it.

"It's cold out, you should put it on." Jane encouraged.

Anne didn't. She hoped Jane hadn't seen where she'd thrown up close to the porch of the school. She didn't know if the snow had covered it well enough, and it had been embarrassing enough to run out of the classroom, she didn't need her classmates seeing that she'd vomited.

"Anne, do you want to come back in? Or…would you like me to walk you home?"

Anne finally looked up at her. "I'm all right," she said.

She felt a sudden sob come up and she tried very hard not to cry. She was tired of telling people _I'm all right. No problems here. I'm just fine, thanks._ But what else could she do?

Jane locked eyes with Anne for a moment. She knew Anne wasn't fine.

They just stared at each other a moment.

"Anne...I'm _sorry_." Jane said.

Anne shook her head. "I'm all right, really. I don't feel sick anymore." She slowly got to her feet and motioned for Jane to follow her back to inside.

That wasn't what Jane meant. But she didn't know how to broach what she did mean. So she didn't.

"Maybe you've got a stomach bug," she suggested as they walked back up to the school.

"Maybe," Anne said dully. … _I hope that's all that's in there._

When school let out, Anne waited for the others to leave and then met Gilbert at the edge of the woods.

She looked incredibly tired.

Gilbert didn't even say anything to her. He reached out and grabbed her hand.

Anne didn't pull away. They started walking now, hand in hand.

Her gloves were thinner than his, and his thick glove kept her hand warm as they walked. There was something strong about his touch, she thought, but not the same sort of strength that Billy had. Gilbert's strength was just as bold and just as fierce as Billy's, but they were a thousand, a _million_ times different. There was a gentleness in Gilbert's touch, a tenderness that Billy did not possess. The way he held her reminded her of the way you would hold a young fledgling: sheltered and protected, but free at the same time to fly any time it pleased. But these thoughts she kept to herself.

Gilbert didn't like her being so quiet…it wasn't like her.

But he didn't push her.

When they reached the meadow where they always separated, then he said, "I hope you get some rest before Monday. …Maybe you ought to stay home part of next week. Just…to have a break."

Anne looked at him with dull eyes. "I'm fine," she said.

He shook his head. "No, you're not."

She sighed. "No, I'm not. …You're the only person I can say that to."

Gilbert squeezed her hand. "Have you thought any more about telling the Cuthberts?"

Anne bit her lip. Then she shook her head.

"Were you sick for any other reason, do you think?" He finally asked.

"No. No. It can't be that. …I just felt sick. It's nerves. That's all. And I'm not eating enough. I'll get that sorted out and then I'll be fine."

He nodded slowly. "It's just…this coming Tuesday it'll be six weeks, Anne."

"So?" she asked defensively.

"So…I thought they'd know by now. The Cuthberts'." He took a deep breath, looking into her eyes, "And…I just don't want there to be any reason that comes along that makes it even more difficult to tell them."

"I'm going to tell them," Anne said. "I'm just not ready to yet."

Gilbert nodded. "Okay," he said, sounding a bit sad.

Anne said, "The truth is, Billy being nice- or, what he thinks is nice, I guess- is making me feel worse. I don't understand what he's trying to accomplish. It would be good for him if he was changing, I suppose, but I don't think that's it. He's doing this for a _reason_ , and I don't know what it is. If he's trying to…lull me into a false sense of security…hoping I'll let my guard down, or…" The end of that sentence was meant to be, _or he's hoping to make you think you don't have to stay with me anymore._

But she didn't say that part.

One thing that was making her feel sick to her stomach was the thought of Gilbert stopping what he was doing for her. Was that what Billy was trying to do- separate Gilbert from her? Maybe if Billy could get Gilbert to think she was safe now, then Gilbert wouldn't feel the need to watch over her anymore. Maybe Billy was putting on this act of being nice so that Gilbert would believe his job was done…and then Anne would be alone, and Billy would be free to hurt her again.

But she felt she couldn't tell Gilbert that. Because she already felt guilty about how much Gilbert was doing for her- how much time he spent with her, the earlier mornings, and the days in the woods. There were times he'd been with her that he should have been with his father, and that was a source of guilt for her, too. She wanted, for his sake, for Gilbert to be able to stop. But she was also desperate not to lose the closeness she had with him now. She couldn't tell him that she was worried Billy was just trying to make it seem as if she was safe now- that would only make Gilbert feel even _more_ obligated to her, and she knew that he should not _have_ to feel obligated to her.

She had so many things she wanted to say, and she couldn't bring herself to say any of them.

When she thought about these things, she felt like she'd be sick all over again. She swallowed hard.

"But it'll be okay. I'm fine," she finished.

Author's note: Because I still had to go to school and be around this boy every day, I began to have so much anxiety about going to school that every morning before school I'd get so nauseated I'd throw up. But because I was throwing up every morning, I began to get scared that maybe it was actually morning sickness and meant that I was pregnant? Anne can't take a pregnancy test and I couldn't either because I was too young to drive and there were only two stores within walking distance and one of them didn't have self check out and I was too embarrassed to bring one to the cashier, and the other store had self check out but they had security cameras in front of them and my friend's mom worked there. So that's why there is this part of the story.


	115. Plans

You can scroll down further to skip this long author note if you want, but I wanted to say that I thought Anne's worry over having a baby would be just a couple chapters and then moving on. But as I've been writing this story, I've been sort of forced to really go through everything again, and the more I think about what that time was like for me, I realized it WASN'T something "dealt with and moved on". It was weeks of sickening worry, and that doesn't just "go away" in a chapter or two.

I realize how stupid it sounds to plan to run away if you find out you're pregnant…But that's what I wanted to do, if I was pregnant, my plan was "I'm running away". I had no plan beyond that.

Anne has to think about what happens to a baby you leave it at a church because that's what a lot of girls did back then. Today we don't really have that but we have something similar…I vividly remember going to the library to look online- I couldn't look this up at home because what if my parents might somehow see my search results- so I'm hiding in a corner by myself looking to see about safe haven laws; laws are different in various states, but basically safe haven laws mean you can go to the police station, but you don't have to tell them your name, and they will take the newborn baby and you won't be in trouble for leaving it.

This was terrifying to me, because even though I did not want to get pregnant from the boy who raped me, I didn't think I could hand over a newborn and just go on with life as if nothing had happened? …But I didn't know what else to do.. Luckily I did not get pregnant and all those weeks of gut wrenching worry were for nothing.

Anne has Gilbert to bounce things off of and help figure out what to do. I didn't. Those weeks were awful, and remembering it still sucks, and I needed to write through that. So I did. But here is the great thing. When thinking about things to write in my chapters, I have cried, and sometimes WHILE I'm writing, I have cried, but once I finish writing a chapter, I don't cry about it anymore and when I go back and re-read what I've written, I feel like "ok, I've conquered that". So even if nobody reads my story, it has been a great thing for me to write it, and for those of you who have read it, I think it is nice of you to go on this little journey with me.

: )

* * *

Saturday was a good day, but on Sunday Anne felt herself getting anxiety as the evening went on. The later it got, the worse she felt.

She knew it was because it was almost time start the new school week. She thought about seeing if she could stay home, like Gilbert had suggested, but she didn't want Marilla to know she felt sick.

…Besides, delaying school by one more day wouldn't solve anything. If she didn't go Monday, she'd just worry about Tuesday.

And Tuesday was already full of its own problems. She heard Gilbert's words in her mind now: _This coming Tuesday it'll be six weeks, Anne._

Anne still didn't feel like eating, but she made herself get some food down at every meal so that she wouldn't get shaky. As long as she could keep herself from throwing up, she was sure she wasn't… _expecting_.

Sunday night she didn't sleep well, thinking about school and wondering what Billy might try to do. Him being nice was almost harder to take than him being mean.

Monday morning she was sick in her chamber pot three times before she went down for breakfast.

She met Gilbert feeling snappy and irritable.

"I'm so sick of this snow," she grumbled. "It needs to melt already."

"It's two weeks till Christmas," Gilbert reminded her. "It'll be nice to have a white Christmas, won't it?"

She considered that. In all her troubles she'd forgotten that Christmas wasn't far off.

Gilbert went on, "Every couple years we have a Christmas pantomime. It's too bad it isn't this year; I'm sure you'd enjoy it. Lots of the school children have parts, and there are costumes and painted scenery and music…"

That interested Anne. "It'll be next Christmas, though?" she asked.

He nodded. "Christmas is pretty at church every year, though, so you'll like that too. The church is decorated with holly and berry and evergreens…"

"I like when outdoor things are brought inside," she said, relenting.

He smiled. "And we don't just have church Christmas morning, we have it Christmas Eve too. At night. With candles."

Anne could already imagine how beautiful that would look. _The darkness of the church, lit by dozens of flickering candles, and perhaps music that echoes into the church rafters, like a prayer floating right up to the heavens…_ this thought made her feel shivers. _How romantical._

Gilbert was glad he could once again be a harbinger of glad tidings, as Anne had once called him.

He only wished that a pretty church service was enough to make things better for her.

"You know," he said hesitantly, "This is your first Christmas in Avonlea. It ought to be special. I hate to think you might spend it worrying. Wouldn't you be able to have a better Christmas if you weren't having to pretend you're fine when you're not? If you tell the Cuthberts', you'd probably be able to relax more, eh?"

Anne's heart sank to her stomach. "Telling them when Christmas is coming is the worst time to do it, Gilbert. It'll ruin everything. Why would I tell them something that's going to upset them when it's meant to be the happiest time of year?"

Gilbert nodded, seeing her point. "So you want to wait till after Christmas, then?"

Anne hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. After Christmas would be much better than before."

"How long after Christmas do you want to wait?"

She thought about this. "Not _right_ after Christmas. It would still put a damper on Christmas, if it was too soon after. Maybe a week…or two."

"Then that's taking you into the new year," Gilbert pointed out.

"You're right. Maybe I'll wait a bit after that, too, then. New Year's is sort of a holiday, in a way."

Gilbert was frustrated. "Anne, it's been six weeks already. If you wait that long, you'll be telling them about something that happened _three months ago_."

She bit her lip. "You think I waited too long?"

Gilbert wanted to shout _YES!_ But he didn't. "I thought you should have told them the same day it happened. …I wish I'd been more insistent."

"Trust me, you were plenty insistent," Anne told him, remembering with annoyance how he'd kept bringing it up over and over when she'd just wanted him to stop mentioning it.

"Telling them late is better than not telling them at all," he said. "But, you can't really wait another six weeks, can you? …You're placing an unnecessary burden on yourself."

Anne was quiet a moment, then she said, "You seem to think things will get better once I tell. But I think things are going to get worse after I tell."

"No, they won't," he pleaded with her. Then he asked, "Are you trying to wait for a reason, or are you just putting it off?"

She kicked at the snow as she walked.

"Anne?"

"…It's been six weeks since it happened, and now I keep getting sick." She didn't look at him, keeping her head down.

"I know," he said, waiting for her to go on.

"Well…I don't want to tell them. At all, ever."

"But you-"

"Gilbert, I just need to wait a _little_ longer. I need to know..."

"You need to know about-"

"A baby," she whispered. "I need to know for _sure_."

"Why, though? It makes more sense to tell them before you know. Remember what I said before? About how you don't want them to accuse you-"

"But if I'm _not_ , then there's no need to tell them at all."

Gilbert sighed.

"Well, if there is one, are you going to explain about Billy first? Let them get used to that information before you tell them the rest? I wouldn't mention the baby first thing- they might jump to conclusions before they understand how it came about."

Anne thought about this. Gilbert had just pointed out that she would have _two_ pieces of news for them, not one. Telling them what had happened that day in the woods was not the same thing as telling them she was having a baby.

…and when she thought about this, she realized that telling them she was having a baby seemed a lot worse than telling them a boy had hurt her.

"If I were you, I'd lead off with the part about Billy. That way when you tell them about the baby they'll know that it wasn't your fault."

"They'll think it's my fault no matter which way I tell them," Anne said sadly.

"No, they won't," he said firmly. "And if they do, they're wrong."

They were quiet a moment, and then he said- "If there isn't a baby, do you think you'll ever tell them what happened to you?"

Anne slowly shook her head. "I'd rather just forget it ever happened."

Gilbert said- hoping it didn't come across as mean- "Have you been able to forget anything in the past six weeks?"

She argued, "It's just this business about a baby; that's why nothing has gotten better yet. Once that part is settled, everything will change."

He still didn't say anything.

"It _will_ ," she insisted.

She felt very confident about this, more confident than anything she'd felt in a while: if she wasn't having a baby, then all the bad feelings would go away for good and she could move on with her life.

Gilbert didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue with her.

Once at school, Gilbert faced a bit of a dilemma. How could he stay close by her and keep Billy from "being nice" to her, but without alerting the girls that he was paying attention to Anne?

Billy came into the classroom and for once didn't look at Anne. He was busy with his friends. But Gilbert still kept a close eye on Billy just the same. And he wasn't the only one- he noticed Jane seemed to be watching her brother with narrowed eyes.

Anne was glad Billy left her alone, until lunch time. She ate with the girls. As they were eating, Billy came to their corner and leaned down, handing something to Jane. "Mother accidentally put two of these in my lunch. One is yours."

Jane took it. She opened up the paper napkin. "Sugar cookies!" she told the girls, "She gave me three. We can split them in half so all six of us can have them."

"Don't give any to Anne, she's sweet enough already." Billy looked at Anne and gave her a superficial smile that chilled her to the bone.

Jane was glad Billy was being nice to Anne, but Josie certainly did not look pleased. The other girls were looking at each other with excited blushes, thinking they'd stumbled onto a potential romance, and they squealed over it as soon as Billy walked away.

But Anne ignored them. She got up and went outside. She shut her eyes against the cold wind as she leaned against the building.

Diana and Jane both got up and followed her out.

"Anne, are you all right?" Diana asked, concerned.

"Yes," she said, but she didn't open her eyes.

"You look as if you're about to be sick," Diana said, putting her arm around Anne. "It's cold, let's get you back inside. Maybe you should sit at your desk and put your head down to rest. Do you think it's something you ate?"

Jane looked back and forth between them. She wished Diana hadn't come outside with her, she wanted to ask Anne if Billy was still being cruel to her without Jane noticing. Billy _must_ have done something to her, maybe when Jane had gone to the privy he'd said something mean to Anne.

Anne went back inside with the girls. She sat down, but the first thing Jane said to her once they were settled again was, "Here, Anne, have a sugar cookie."

Anne looked at the cookie. "No, thanks," she said. Billy had touched it. Probably not the cookies directly, but he'd been holding the napkin in his hands.

Josie reached out and grabbed the cookie meant for Anne. "Did you forget? She doesn't need one. She's _sweet enough already_." Josie looked angry.

Anne looked down. "I don't know why he said that," she told Josie. "It's you he likes, not me."

"Well clearly you've done something to get his attention!" Josie snapped.

"I haven't done _anything_!" Anne said, upset. "…At least I didn't _mean_ to."

"Josie, calm down," Diana said. "Anne has no interest in Billy. Do you, Anne?"

"No!" Anne said, upset. She tried not to cry.

Anne looked around at the girls. Diana liked her, and Jane seemed to have warmed up to her. But…Ruby didn't like her because of Gilbert and Josie didn't like her because of Billy. Why was this happening? Why was everything so hard?

She needed friends now more than ever, but what had happened was affecting every part of her life, even making friends.

She got up and left again. The girls just stared after her, surprised. Diana came after her, but Anne turned around and said, "I'm going home. I don't feel good. Can you get the spelling list for me this afternoon?"

Diana nodded. She looked worried. "Do you want me to walk you home? I can ask Mr. Phillips if I can go with you…"

Anne shook her head. "Thank you, Diana, but I want to walk alone."

She got her things together and told Mr. Phillips that she felt too sick to stay at school and she was sure she was coming down with something.

She slipped out without anyone paying attention to her- except Gilbert.

When he noticed she left, he quickly got his things and followed her.

He did not tell Mr. Phillips he was leaving. He didn't care if he got in trouble for it later.

As he caught up with Anne- who was actually storming into the woods by herself- and called out, "Anne! Anne!"

She turned around. The wind on her face hit the tears coming down her cheeks and stung her. "Go away!" she shouted, startling him.

He stopped a moment, taken aback.

She began walking away from him again. She was close to the woods now, but she wasn't even slowing down.

He didn't know what to do for a moment, but then he followed her anyway.

"Where are you going?" he asked her, hoping it was home.

"I'm going to my hideout. And I'm going to stay there, and I don't need you! Leave me alone!"

Anne didn't know why she was lashing out at Gilbert, except that he just happened to be convenient to take her frustrations out on the moment.

Gilbert wouldn't leave her though, he worried that once she was in the woods she'd get scared.

When she got to her hideaway, she threw her lunch basket on the ground, all her food rolling out of it and resting in the snow-covered dead leaves.

She slumped down in the corner and put her face in her mittens.

Gilbert stood in the doorway.

He didn't come in, because she didn't want him there, and he wasn't going to set foot through that door without her permission. This was the only place she felt safe, and he wasn't going to desecrate that.

He sat down just outside the threshold.

"What did he say to you?" Gilbert asked after a few minutes.

Anne wiped her eyes. "That I'm sweet."

"Oh," Gilbert said.

They were quiet for a few minutes.

Finally Anne, shuddering, lifted her face out of her mittens and used them to wipe her eyes.

She looked at Gilbert.

"Why are you sitting out there?"

Gilbert smiled. "Can I come in?"

She nodded.

He got up and moved closer.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said quietly. "It was terribly unkind of me, and you didn't deserve that."

"Water under the bridge," he dismissed it, shaking his head.

She pulled her knees close to her chest.

"It's cold here," he said, reaching his hand out to her. "Come on."

She took his hand and stood up.

"I don't want to go back to school," she said.

"We're not. I want to go home."

"I don't want to go to my house; then-"

" _My_ house," Gilbert clarified. "Just a warm place to stay for a little while. Ok?"

Anne was about to argue, but then decided to go with him. She'd felt better after that day at his house; maybe it would make her feel better today, too.

Gilbert leaned down and picked up her basket and bookstrap. Her food was left in the snow. _Well, at least some little animal will enjoy it_ , Anne thought.

On the way, she explained the way the girls had reacted to her.

Gilbert shook his head, upset. Things were all getting so confused.

"Even if you don't tell the Cuthberts' what happened, maybe you ought to tell the girls."

Anne looked shocked. "I'm not telling _five_ _people_!"

Gilbert said, "What about just Josie, then?"

Anne asked, snapping, "Why would I tell the one person who hates me the most?"

"Because you'd be warning her." Gilbert pointed out.

"She wouldn't believe me anyway," Anne said. "I know Billy and Josie are too young to court now, but the minute Josie's old enough to start wearing her hair up, Billy will be at the Pye's front door asking if he can come calling. They'll be courting in five minutes flat."

"I don't know, Anne. She might go from being Billy's biggest fan to being your biggest ally. I think she'd be angry that he engaged in that sort of thing. The fact that she likes him might actually make her more critical of him doing that with you."

Anne thought about this, but shook her head.

Knowing he couldn't convince her, he stopped trying.

He opened the front door of his house and waited for her to step in.

Anne hurriedly wiped her face again and got her hankie to wipe her nose. "My eyes must be red. I know they're watery. I don't want your dad to see me like this," she whispered. "He'll know something's wrong. I don't want him to be troubled. He's so sw-" She stopped, feeling the word 'sweet' had somehow been tainted, and finished, "He's so nice."

Gilbert looked over her shoulder at the living room. His father must still be in bed. "I'll run in and check on him," he said softly, "Since I'm here. But if he's asleep anyway, then there's no reason to disturb him." He took her into the kitchen and got her a glass of milk. "I'll be right back."

Gilbert left her and returned a moment later. "He's asleep. And if he stays asleep, then he never needs to know you were here." He sat down at the table with her.

Anne had taken off her coat and hat while Gilbert was looking in on his father. Her yarn hat was on the table. Now she played with the fringe, feeling nervous.

"You ok?" Gilbert asked, watching her.

"I don't feel sick anymore, if that's what you mean," Anne answered. "Not right now, anyway."

He nodded.

There was a pause, then he said, "Anne, I don't think you're having a baby. And I don't think you should worry about it."

Gilbert had no idea if she was having a baby or not, he just didn't want her to keep feeling so anxious.

But then he shook his head and said, "…But I also know that telling somebody to stop worrying, won't actually make them stop worrying."

"You're right, it won't," she said sharply.

"So maybe we should talk about it as if it _is_ going to happen- even though it's _not_ \- so we can try to figure out what to do about it?"

"Like…like how people say 'hope for the best, prepare for the worst'. …I've heard Marilla say that before," Anne said.

"Right…maybe it would help you not worry so much if you felt like you had a _plan_."

"I don't know what kind of plan would help…" Anne said softly, shaking her head.

"Well, that's what we've got to figure out," Gilbert said. "The first thing is to tell Miss Cuthbert."

Anne already looked upset.

"Anne, if you _are_ having a baby, you can't keep that from her. It's not possible."

"I know. But I can't..." Anne stopped, already near tears. "If I'm having a baby, then I want to run away."

"Anne…." Gilbert said.

"Well, I do!" She looked like she might cry. "I'd rather run away than let anyone here see that I'm expecting!" She whispered, "I read in a book that Prince Edward Island was one of the most _beautiful_ places in all of Canada and I wanted _so_ badly to see it…coming here was a dream come true…and I loved Avonlea. But I _can't_ …I can't _be_ here and have a baby…everything's _ruined!_ "

"…Where would you go?" Gilbert asked hesitantly.

"A friend told me the District of Alberta's nice," she said.

Gilbert shook his head, not finding that amusing. "Anne, if you decide to run away, I'll walk right into your house and tell them you're expecting a baby. I'm serious."

"Oh. Then if I do decide to run away, I won't tell you first."

Gilbert was quiet a moment. He looked into her eyes, his own serious. "You could leave Avonlea and go all the way to _Aruba_ and nothing would change."

Anne noticed her button was hanging loose and she began playing with the thread that attached it to her coat.

When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "Yes, it would. No one would know me."

Gilbert "You're right, no one would know you. So you wouldn't have any family or friends to help you when you need it the most."

"I'd only run away long enough to be gone when the baby's showing. Once it's born I'd come back. And no one would ever know."

"I'd sure feel sorry for Mr. and Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert said, shaking his head. "They'd have a hard time without you. All those sleepless nights, wondering where you are, if you're safe...it would have a terrible effect on their health, I'd think."

Anne began pulling at the loose thread on her button.

"I'd feel sorry for _you_ , too," he added. "Being all alone when you're expecting a baby. That can't be easy. Especially without a way to make a living."

"I just need a few months. That's all it would take." Anne said, "I could figure something out."

"And then to come back and have to face all those questions? Why you ran, and having to make up a story about where you were," Gilbert said, shaking his head again. "I'd be worried I couldn't keep my story straight, if it were me. And to think of always having to keep your past a secret from Mr. and Miss Cuthbert. Such a big secret. …It sounds so much _simpler_ to just tell them what's going on, so they can help you. Don't you think so?"

Anne had pulled on the thread so much that the button fell off.

She leaned down and picked it up. "I wonder how small a baby starts out," she said softly, holding the button in the palm of her hand. "It's got to be awfully small, to not even show at first."

Gilbert looked at the button. "You've still got time before anything shows. Just tell Miss Cuthbert now. Do you want me to go with you? I will. You don't have to tell her alone, ok?"

Anne took a shaky breath. She didn't want to look at that button any more. She put it in her pocket.

Then she said angrily, "I thought making a plan was supposed to make things better. Talking about telling Marilla is not making anything better!"

"…ok." Gilbert said quickly, "Let's move on, then. We can think about that part later."

Anne nodded slowly.

"Tomorrow it'll be six weeks," Gilbert said. He did the math in his head and came up with, "July or August, then?"

Anne took a shaky breath. This summer her whole life could change.

Gilbert said hesitantly, not wanting to upset her any more than she had to be, "Before it would be born, you would need to decide what's next. Whether you can keep it, or…or if there's somewhere you can take it."

"I don't want to leave it at an orphanage…I'd feel so _guilty_. It can't even fend for itself," she said. Then she said quietly, " _I_ couldn't fend for _myself_."

That made Gilbert feel terrible. What had Anne been through?

Gilbert saw Anne as being resilient, vibrant, powerful even. …But now he took a look at her again, from a different perspective, and saw for the first time how small and defenseless a thirteen year old girl could be…and even more so the younger she had been.

He knew her last few years had been spent being an unpaid nanny and housekeeper, but he hadn't thought about further back- when she herself was a small child, had she been taken good care of? Or had she been left to try to fend for herself? A small child would go hungry, dirty, and cold if not cared for…and could do nothing if someone mistreated them.

If she was having a baby, she'd go through more pain, not just physical, but emotional as well. And it was easy to think that giving _away_ that baby would make things easier: No baby, no reminder, no link to Billy…

…But he now realized that _leaving_ the baby would bring pain, too.

Anne seemed to feel she was putting a defenseless child just like herself out into the world to face the unknown.

She never should have been put in this situation, but nevertheless, she was. And that baby she _didn't want_ , whose arrival made her feel her life was _over_ , that baby also mattered in a big way: Her own pain would only be magnified if she thought she'd caused _it_ pain.

"If you _have_ to leave it, it doesn't have to be at an orphanage," Gilbert said. "I know churches in big cities have foundling boxes. It happens often enough that they've got a system now. It isn't like the old days, when people would leave babies on church doorsteps; that's not how things are done anymore. Foundling boxes are very safe. Nuns or clergy stay at church at night. The baby's not out in the elements. Some of them even have a bell you pull after you've left it, to be sure someone comes quickly. And they're warm."

Anne hugged herself, her arms having goosebumps. "But where do they take it? It's not going to just live at the church."

"They find a home for it."

"If they can't find one, then it would have to go to an orphanage, though," she said.

"…I suppose so. But I'm sure they try very hard. And churches know a lot of people…especially big churches, they have _enormous_ congregations. Maybe someone from the church, someone good and kind, who wants a child…"

Anne started to cry now. Gilbert didn't know what to do.

He reached out and put his hand on her arm. "Maybe…maybe _we_ could find someone who wants a baby and couldn't have one."

"How?"

"Well, Miss Cuthbert might know someone. She knows more people than you do, more adults, so she has more of a network to reach out to, right?" Then he thought, " She might even know of someone off the island, someone who's far away from here…and then you wouldn't have to run into it and you wouldn't have to think about it anymore."

Anne stared at him.

"Or someone closer by, if that's what you want. But we won't know _who_ she might know that could do it, if we don't ask her."

Anne said, looking away from him, "I hope it looks like Billy."

This caught Gilbert off guard and he must have looked like he didn't understand her, because she then explained, "…It'll have a better lot in life, I think. Everyone finds Billy handsome. Not me, I find him _repugnant_. But speaking objectively, he's handsome, and what a person looks like matters…particularly when that person is an orphan in search of a home."

"I don't think it matters who it looks like when it comes to finding it a home."

"It _does_! Everywhere I've gone, I've been pitied or ridiculed for my looks! It isn't often that people adopt orphans just because they want to have a child- usually it's because they need them for work- but maybe if I'd been a pretty child, maybe someone would have wanted me to _love_! Some nice couple who wanted a little girl and couldn't have one. They'd have chosen a pretty little girl with raven ringlets and starry eyes…But instead I was just wanted for the work I could provide. You don't know how many times I've been twitted about my looks, Gilbert! And I don't mean from children, I'm talking about _grown ups_!"

"Really? Grown ups?" Gilbert looked surprised- and disgusted.

"Even when I came _here_ , Mrs. Lynde took one look at me and she said something like 'Well, Marilla, you sure didn't choose her because of her _looks!_ ' I know you don't want to admit it, Gilbert, but looks _matter!_ "

She calmed down a bit and then said, "If I'm about to put another orphan out into the world, the most I can hope is that it looks more like Billy so that someone will want it."

"But it'll be a baby and we'll find a home for it right away, so looks won't matter at first," Gilbert said. "All newborn babies just look like little old men. All wrinkly and odd."

Anne couldn't help smiling at that. "That is true…"

"Yeah, so if someone can take it, they'll be getting a wrinkly, splotchy newborn who looks like an old man. And they'll love it. They won't care what it grows up to look like," Gilbert said.

Then he had a more helpful thought. "You wanted to run away and not come back until the baby's been born. Well, maybe the Cuthberts could help you run away."

"What do you mean?"

"They could send you away to stay with someone- a relative or a friend who lives far away. And then after the baby's been born- and after it's been taken to whoever it's going to stay with- then you'd come back here. No one here in Avonlea would know you'd had a baby."

"I don't think they have any relatives far away," Anne said, thinking out loud.

"Or they could keep you in. It would be hard for you to just stay in the house for months. But you could be ill. Something serious, so you can't come out and you can't have visitors. Eventually you'd have the baby, and you'd make a miraculous recovery and be able to go back to school."

Anne thought about that. "They'd have to smuggle the baby out, or someone might see the person leaving with it."

Saying _'the person leaving with it'_ made her wonder how it would feel to have someone leave with it, and know that she was never going to see it again. Would she feel any twinge of affection toward the little creature? Or would she only feel relief at it being gone? She imagined she would just feel relieved to be rid of it, but then she wondered what would happen if she somehow found herself struggling to let it go? Was there was some natural maternal instinct that would kick in when she'd gone through the whole thing? She wondered aloud, "What if Matthew and Marilla wouldn't _let_ me keep it?"

That caught Gilbert off guard. "…Do you _want_ to keep it?" he asked a bit hesitantly.

"No," Anne said, looking like she might cry.

Gilbert didn't know what to say. Why would not being allowed to keep it upset her if she didn't want it anyway? This was all so confusing.

"On the other hand, what if they _make_ me keep it? …Maybe they'll feel it's my responsibility…that I shouldn't be allowed to burden someone else with it."

Gilbert didn't know what to say to that because he didn't know what the Cuthberts' would think. _Would_ they tell Anne it was her duty, that she couldn't just abandon the infant to someone else to take care of? He didn't know.

"If I _have_ to keep it, then I hope it looks like me. I don't know how I'd cope if it looked like Billy. Imagine staring into his _eyes_ every day…" She put her head in her hands for a moment, then she breathed and looked back up at him again. "A baby ought to be loved, and wanted, and I _can't_."

"I know you feel that way now," Gilbert said, "But…sometimes feelings change?"

"I don't think my feelings on _this_ will."

"Maybe they won't," Gilbert agreed, "But we don't know yet, so let's try not to predict it. There's probably not going to be a baby at all, so it won't matter, right? …We're just speaking hypothetically. If there is a baby, who knows how you'll feel when the time comes….maybe it'll be different than you thought?"

"I don't like babies," Anne said. "I know that sounds ungenerous considering it isn't their fault they're so much trouble and so little joy, but that's the crux of the matter…I've had more than enough of babies for one lifetime, taking care of all of Mrs. Hammonds'. I just don't like them."

"I think it's different when it's your own," he said, after thinking for a moment.

"They were Mrs. Hammonds' own, and _she_ seemed awfully bothered by them." Anne pointed out.

"You're not Mrs. Hammond," he told her. "She sounds like a crabby sort of person."

Anne couldn't help smiling at that, and Gilbert laughed, amused by Anne's expression.

"I wonder if she started out crabby," Anne said, "Or if it was the babies that did it."

"…Didn't Mrs. Hammond have like a hundred babies?"

As down as she was, Anne couldn't help having a laugh at that. "That's what it _felt_ like, anyway."

"And it was your job to take care of them all," he stated.

Anne nodded. "Yes, it most definitely was."

Gilbert said, making a point, "Wouldn't your job have been a lot easier if she only had _one_?"

" _Immensely_ ," she agreed.

"So maybe _one_ isn't so bad." He said.

Anne looked at him.

"I know taking care of all Mrs. Hammond's kind of soured you on babies," he said, "But surely _one_ can't be so hard. After the brood you're used to looking after, one would feel easy." He knew it wouldn't, but he was just trying to make it sound easy, so she wouldn't worry if the Cuthberts' made her keep her baby after all. " _One_ little baby can't be too much of a headache."

"Well, even if taking care of it isn't as horrible as I'm thinking it will be, there's still…the thing I regret most…" she opened up, "Is _school_. I don't want to give it up."

"What if someone could come watch it for you? Like…a hired girl, maybe someone who needs to make money. …The Cuthberts have a farmhand, don't they?"

"Jerry," Anne said, nodding.

"You could see if Jerry has a sister who could take it on during the day, while you're at school," Gilbert said. "If they've got their kids working, then they must need the help, right? I bet they'd be glad to have an extra job."

Anne shook her head. "But I don't have money to pay her."

"I'm sure the Cuthberts-"

Anne interrupted, "You know why they wanted an orphan, Gilbert? An orphan meant free help on the farm. I was meant to be a boy, but the orphan asylum accidentally sent a girl. Matthew and Marilla _could_ have sent me back and asked for a boy again, but they didn't. They _kept_ me. And I'm so grateful they did, but keeping me cost them money. They hired Jerry. I couldn't expect them to hire a girl to take care of my…my baby. Then they'd be paying wages to _two_ people to make up for me."

Gilbert was quiet a moment. Then: "I thought of another source of income," he said. "The Andrews."

"What?"

"Yeah, the Andrews," he said, sounding a little angry. "They could be doing _something_. …It's not right that Billy can do this and then just walk away, leaving you with all the trouble and expense. _He_ should be doing _something_. If it hadn't been for him, there wouldn't be a baby at all, so why doesn't he have to take any responsibility for it?"

"Oh I agree with you," Anne said, "Wholeheartedly! You're absolutely right. Why should the woman be the one who takes on all the burden? We women have to do it all. We have to carry the baby and deliver it and then stay home _forever_. And we can't even have careers or…or follow our dreams…because we have to do _everything_. …And that's fine if being a wife and mother is what you _want_ ," she clarified, "But if it _isn't_ what you want then why don't you get to choose something else and have all the freedoms of a man? It's not _fair_."

"It's not," Gilbert agreed, "So we're in agreement- Billy should have to pay. The Andrews need to…to give you something."

"Restitution." Anne announced, using a word she'd learned.

Gilbert hadn't heard that one yet. "Restitution?"

"Yes, Anne said. "It means…" She shut her eyes, trying to remember the words in the book she'd seen. Finally the printed words on the page came back to her mind and she recited them, " _To recompense for damage or loss_. …Which he can't do, not _really_. But paying a baby's expenses would be something like it."

But then she sighed. "It isn't any use. They're not going to help me…they won't even _believe_ me."

Then after a moment, she made a face and shook her head. "I don't really want anything from them, anyway…then I'd feel…I don't know, like I was connected to them or something."

Gilbert said, "You shouldn't have to bear the brunt of the expense and work."

"Well, that's not going to happen, so there's no use thinking about it," she said unhappily. "Billy will just go on doing everything he wants to do. And going to school is just one more thing he's taken away from me." Anne tried not to cry.

Gilbert was quiet a moment, then asked, "I don't see why you'd have to stop school. Babies sleep a lot, don't they?"

"Not at first," Anne said. "The first few weeks are _awful_."

"I thought they slept a lot," he said, admitting he didn't know much about babies.

"Well, they take long naps," Anne explained, "But the first few weeks are hard. They don't settle down in a regular routine until they're a few months old."

"Then it might only be a few months," he said, trying to sound optimistic. "Once it starts napping regularly, then you could come back to school."

"No, I couldn't, because, again, I don't have money to pay anyone to watch the baby."

Gilbert tried to think. "But if you could just do _half_ days at school…that would be better than nothing…once it gets into a regular routine of napping- and if Miss Cuthbert would be willing to just keep an eye on it while it's napping- surely you could get away for just three or four hours?"

"Gilbert," she interrupted. "It's nice; you trying to make it all work out. …But I don't think they let a girl whose had a baby just go back to school as if nothing's happened."

Gilbert nodded slowly. He knew his own father wouldn't judge her, but he could see the other parents taking issue with their children- especially their daughters- fraternizing with a girl who had been pregnant.

"Well..." Then he had a thought. "Just because you can't go to school doesn't mean you have to give up on education."

He thought about it. "You could do everything at home. I could help you. When you get old enough you could take the matriculation exams. You'd pass them and it would be just the same as if you'd gone to school."

"Can you?" Anne asked. "I thought if you couldn't go to school then that was it for you."

"I don't think so," Gilbert said, now thinking he shouldn't have brought it up since he wasn't one hundred percent sure. "I'll find out for you," he promised.


	116. Needlepoint

Monday night, Anne knelt by her bed and prayed to God that she wasn't having a baby.

But after she got into bed, she lay awake, thinking about how futile that prayer had been: _It's too late to pray for that, now,_ she realized with dismay. _I should have prayed right after it happened…only I hadn't thought of it then._

She lay her hands on her stomach. _But by now it's been six weeks. If there is a baby, it's already here. And it's probably getting bigger every day._

Then she had a strange thought. _If there's a baby inside you, can it hear you? I thought that inside my own head, I had my own world…But Marilla said God lives inside our hearts and can hear us talking to Him even when we don't say the words out loud. Well a baby lives inside you, too…I wonder if it can hear me?_

The thought made her upset. Then she said, inside her head, _Baby, if you are here, and if you can hear me, I'm sorry I said I don't want you. I'm sure it made you feel bad, but to tell you the truth, I really do have a very good reason not to want you, and that the reason is…_

She shook her head in the dark. _Well, the reason doesn't have anything to do with you, so you mustn't let it make you feel bad. Anyway, I'll do my best to find somewhere nice for you to go. I'm sure you're a perfectly lovely baby and somebody is going to be exceedingly joyful to have you…it's just that that person isn't me._

Anne took a deep breath, trying to feel brave _. But since we're going to have to be together for a while, let's try to make it work out, all right? I'll try to think nicer things about you, and you try not to grow too fast so I have more time before anyone knows you're here. Deal?_

She rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but she couldn't.

After laying in bed for what felt like hours, she sat up. She couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if she was having a baby. What would Marilla and Matthew say?

The more she thought about the possibility of having a baby, and the more she thought about having to tell Matthew and Marilla she was having a baby, the more sick to her stomach she felt.

She finally decided to get some crackers to settle her stomach. She went carefully down the stairs and into the kitchen. She opened a sleeve of crackers as quietly as she could, and took them into the parlor.

After she ate a few, she lay down on the sofa and shut her eyes, trying to stave off the nausea.

Once she felt it dissipating, she rolled over and hugged one of the sofa pillows to her.

After thinking a moment, she pushed the pillow under her nightgown and wrapped her arms around it, cradling the pillow on her stomach. _This is what it would be like_ , she told herself.

She wondered if it weighed a lot, and if it threw off your sense of balance. _I may be tiny_ , she thought. _But I'm strong._ _…Or at least I thought I was._

Anne took the pillow out from under her nightgown. _This is not conducive to avoiding nausea,_ she scolded herself _. Put that down and forget about it._

But she didn't. She put the pillow close to her face and stared at it. She couldn't really see it very well in the dark, but she knew this was one of Marilla's needlepoint pillows, with a picture of a house with a tree in front and a heart stitched around it. She felt the bumpy outlines of stitches with her fingertip, tracing the outline of the little house and chimney. Marilla had even stitched a puff of smoke coming out of the chimney. _How do you have a home someday,_ she thought, _and a family and a wedding, when you've already got a baby from before?_ She had never had any fantasy in having children- Mrs. Hammond's brood put that idea right out of her head- but she _did_ want to be a bride. Wearing a lovely gown of white, with flowers in her hair, and a long train that cascaded behind her as she walked down the aisle…the part about having a husband didn't really enter her mind much, but oh, to be a _bride_. She pushed the pillow away from her, thinking for sure now that the whole thing was quite impossible, because she couldn't see that any man would marry a woman who'd had a baby out of wedlock with another man.

Anne sighed. Marilla must have worked on needlepoint for hours and hours through her life, to have so many pillows with needlepoint on them, Anne thought. They were pretty, but… Anne was working on a needlepoint, too, at Marilla's insistence. There wasn't much creativity in needlepoint, she thought. It had been fun to choose a design and pick out the colors she wanted to use, but after that it was all just needle in and needle out, over and over and over, until at last you were done. The creative part was only at the beginning, after that it was drudgery. But Marilla told her she had to finish it. She said she didn't want Anne to think that you could just stop working on something because it wasn't fun anymore. So finish it she would, no matter how long it took and how dull it was.

 _You have to do a lot of sewing_ , she realized, _when you're having a baby. And knitting, too. There's blankets and a layette and rompers and bonnets and…._ She shut her eyes, trying to stop this. The thought of a wedding gown only moments before now made her think of christening gowns. Anne loved christening gowns, and she wondered if she had had one herself when she was a baby, and thought she most likely had not. But she wished she had, because even if she couldn't remember it, she was sure she would have felt beautiful, even as a newborn, in the long white gown babies wore for christenings.

 _Well, having a baby might make it so that no man will want to marry me, but I suppose holding a baby when it's wearing a christening gown might be_ _ **almost**_ _as good as wearing a wedding gown. The baby would be wearing the gown, not me, of course, but the gown would drape over my arms, and it would be long enough to reach the floor, sort of like the train on a wedding gown, and it would have white eyelet ruffles…_ Anne loved eyelet. She even loved the way it sounded, _eyelet_.

But then her dream came tumbling down. _I don't know if churches christen babies who've been born out of wedlock_. She felt the urge to know this right away, and wished she could ask someone, but knew that even if the reverend was standing before her at this very minute, she wouldn't be able to ask a question like that. _I don't think they do, because…they'd call it a bast-_ she stopped herself quickly from saying the terrible word, even just in her head, then she shook her head to herself, thinking sadly, _even if there was a christening, who would want to come?_

She rolled over and faced the other wall. _I never_ _ **really**_ _thought I'd get to be a bride. But it was nice to_ _ **dream**_ _of it._ _Now I can't even dream of that, because even if someone married me, people would whisper to themselves that I've got a lot of nerve walking down the aisle wearing_ _ **white**_ _._

 _I hate you, Billy._

The words were not thought in anger, but in deep sorrow. _You took my…you took my everything. …Even my dream of a white dress._

 _Heavenly Father,_ she thought _, I know we aren't supposed to hate anyone…even if they've done us harm. And I feel I've been very good about forgiving people, thus far. So would you mind very much if I hated someone just this once?_


	117. White Dresses

In the morning Marilla found Anne on the sofa in the parlor, asleep, clutching one of her needlepoint pillows.

A sleeve of soda crackers were on the floor next to the sofa. Marilla frowned, checking to see if any ants had been attracted to the crackers.

"Anne!" Marilla said, shaking her awake.

"Huh- what?" Anne slowly woke up.

Marilla frowned at her, "What are you doing sleeping down here?"

She pulled her needlepoint pillow from Anne's side and brushed it off.

As Anne sat up, Marilla was examining the pillow. "These aren't meant to be slept on; they're _decorative_."

Anne rubbed her eyes. "Oh. Um, sorry. It just looked so pretty, that I guess I wanted to sleep with it…"

Marilla gave her a strange look, but then moved on: "You'll barely have time to eat, so hurry upstairs and get ready for school. Why did you come down here and sleep on the sofa?"

Anne ran up the stairs without answering her.

"What's gotten into you?" Marilla said as Anne came down the stairs after washing and dressing. "You've barely been able to wake up, lately. Have you been staying up late reading when you ought to be asleep?"

"No," Anne said. "Well, I shouldn't say no… You saw what I did to _Tales of Christian Endurance_. But," she rushed on, "that was the _only_ time I did that, I promise."

"Why have I had to pull you out of bed nearly every morning, then?"

Anne gave a troubled sigh, not knowing how to answer.

Marilla's eyes changed from exasperated to concerned. "What is it, Anne?"

Anne bit her lip. "I haven't been able to go to sleep quickly, is all."

Marilla asked, "Has something been troubling you?"

Anne shook her head slowly. Then she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Marilla said, stopping and looking intently at her.

"It's about wedding gowns," Anne began.

Marilla sighed and- feeling very much like rolling her eyes- and turned back to the stove.

"Sit down here and eat quickly so you can get to school. What is it about wedding gowns that's interested you so much?"

Anne sat down with her bowl of porridge. She picked up her spoon, but instead of eating, she just played with the spoon. "Marilla, if there was a man you liked, but he married someone else, and then his wife died, and you married him now, would you still wear a white dress?"

Marilla looked startled.

"What are you on about?" Marilla said, not liking this line of questioning.

"Wait, no," Anne realized. "That's backwards. When it comes to what you would wear for the wedding, it wouldn't matter if _he'd_ been married before, it would only matter if _you'd_ been married before. That doesn't seem fair, does it? That it doesn't go both ways?"

Marilla slowly put the used dishes in the sink.

When she didn't answer, Anne questioned, again, "So if you, Marilla, had already been married…or, you'd had a child-"

"I hope you mean ' _been married_ _ **and**_ _had a child_ ', not ' _been married_ _ **or**_ _had a child'_ ," Marilla said with raised eyebrows.

"Well…" Anne trailed off, not answering that. "Would you? Still wear white, I mean?

"At my age I'd feel foolish walking down the aisle in a wedding gown. A simple ceremony in my good dress would suffice." Marilla said

"But what if you were younger?" Anne insisted. "Then would you wear white?"

"Anne, what foolish ideas have you gotten into your head?" Marilla asked, tired of this strange conversation.

"I just wanted to know about wedding dresses…", Anne said. "Whether the rules were very _stringent_ on wearing white…"

"Well, _most_ people would say you ought not wear white if it's a second wedding. But truthfully the dress isn't the thing," Marilla said, "If you _must_ know. The veil is."

"It is?"

"Yes, the veil is a symbol of virginity," Marilla stopped, looking uncomfortable, and said, "I ought to have said _purity_. Don't repeat the word _virginity_ , Anne. It isn't a word you ought to be saying."

"The Bible uses that word. The virgin Mary," Anne pointed out.

"Yes, well…if it's Christmas and you're in church and you say it with the utmost dignity, then that's one thing, but it's not a word you should be using in any other context. It isn't proper."

"I won't," Anne said softly.

"Eat your porridge, you don't want to be late for school."


	118. Presents

At school, Diana showed Anne the gift she had made for her mother for Christmas.

"Kettleholders," she said, proudly showing Anne her finished product.

Anne remembered once again how close it was to Christmas and how she hadn't even thought about the holiday at all; she'd been too distracted.

"Are you going to give Mr. and Miss Cuthbert something?" Diana asked.

Anne bit her lip. "I haven't started anything yet. I don't know if I have time, now."

Anne felt terrible. Matthew and Marilla had been so good to her and she wanted to give them something nice, something that would show them how much she appreciated them.

Diana thought a moment. Then she said, "I've got wool left over from making mine. I'll bring it tomorrow and you can start on kettleholders for Miss Cuthbert."

Anne smiled at her friend. Diana was so giving.

The next day, when she arrived, Diana gave her the wool and some red embroidery floss she'd saved. "I got it started for you," she explained, showing Anne where she'd done the first bit of sewing. "Because you were worried you wouldn't have time. I worked on it yesterday after school. See? This side's all done, and I embroidered a little rosebud for you here in the corner."

Anne looked at it, almost too happy to speak.

"Diana, you're the best friend anybody could have."

Diana smiled her lovely smile and the whole day was better.

Best of all, for two days Billy had done nothing.


	119. Idea

Anne didn't have much time to work on her gifts, so she had to move quickly. She decided to knit a scarf for Matthew. The idea came to her when she was going through Marilla's knitting basket and found a shade that exactly matched Matthew's eyes.

"Marilla, can I have this? I want to knit a scarf for Matthew for Christmas."

"It's so close to Christmas, do you think you'll be able to finish?" Marilla asked.

"I'll work on it night and day," Anne vowed.

"Day only, if you please. I don't need you staying up nights. I don't think you're getting enough sleep as it is. You've started to get circles around your eyes."

Anne pushed her braid behind her ears.

"Don't you think this color will look good on Matthew?" Anne asked, changing the subject.


	120. Rachel Lynde

"Has Anne seemed to be acting strangely to you lately?" Marilla asked Rachel Lynde as they baked together at Rachel's house the next afternoon.

Rachel turned to her with an amused expression.

"Now don't give me any of that," Marilla said, "You know what I mean. Out of the ordinary."

"For her, or for anyone?" Rachel couldn't help getting in. "No, I haven't noticed anything when I've been at your house. What have you been noticing?"

Marilla kneeding the dough. "I'm not sure. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something is definitely troubling her. For the past couple of weeks at least…I don't know if it's been longer than that; Anne has a tendency to ramble on whether she's nervous or not. But there's more to it, I think. She hasn't been sleeping well, and she hardly touches her food."

Rachel paused to consider this. "She's at a hard age," she thought aloud. "It could be any number of things. Do you think she's done something wrong, and is afraid to admit it for fear you'll put her out?"

"Oh, no, I think she knows we're keeping her for good. I don't think that would come to her mind after all this time. Anyway, what could she have done wrong?"

"Well, perhaps she took money from your purse…something like that." Rachel said. "She didn't used to have any real moral teaching, did she? Perhaps she did something in the past, and now that she's been taught right from wrong, she's feeling burdened over wrong she did before. And she's afraid to admit it."

Marilla considered this. "I don't know. It's possible, I suppose. I don't know what to think."

Rachel thought, "School term reports are coming out soon, aren't they?"

Marilla nodded. "Yes, she should be getting her grades for the fall sometime this week or next."

"There it is! I bet she's worried she's done poorly in school."

"But Anne always does so well," Marilla said. "She started out at a disadvantage, you know. The others were working with exponents, and Anne hadn't even learned how to divide numbers yet. She's made such progress, and so quickly. She's a smart girl."

"Didn't you say that Anne had been spending a lot of time wrapped up in her school work lately?" Rachel remembered.

"It seems that's all she wants to think about!" Marilla declared.

"That's it, then," Rachel decided. "She's overwhelmed by it. Or maybe she's gotten stuck where she is and she doesn't want to admit she's struggling because you and Matthew have told her how proud you are of her progress."

"But we wouldn't be angry with her over something like that," Marilla protested.

"She may not be worried about you being angry, maybe it's the disappointment she fears. …Sometimes children hide things because they don't want you to be sad- they don't want to disappoint you. They think they're protecting you, but they're really just making things worse for themselves."

Marilla nodded. Maybe that was it. Maybe Anne was putting too much pressure on herself to excel in school and was afraid to disappoint her new family.

She'd try to talk to Anne later that evening.


	121. To Talk

When Anne was getting ready for bed, Marilla knocked on her door.

"Come in," she said. She stopped brushing her hair as Marilla came in and sat down on her bed.

Anne could feel a talk coming on, and that made her nervous.

Marilla asked, "How was school today?"

"It was good," Anne said.

Marilla waited for Anne to chatter on like she normally did, but Anne just sat there.

"Well," Marilla said, seeing that she would have to prod the conversation along herself, "Your midterm grades are coming out soon, aren't they?"

"I don't know," Anne said. She tried to remember if Mr. Phillips had said anything about report cards. She hadn't really been thinking about her long term grades on a report card; she'd been more focused on the grade she got on each individual assignment.

"Oh, I thought maybe you were feeling nervous about your grades." Marilla commented.

"No, I think I've done all right. I haven't missed any spelling words in weeks, and I've been getting A's on the geography tests, and…even my math grades have been nearly perfect. I think I'm almost all caught up with the others. I expect my report card will be a good one. …Mr. Phillips even said once that my penmanship was the best in the class."

Marilla smiled. "That's good to hear. I know you've been working very hard. And we're so proud of how quickly you've been able to catch up!"

Anne smiled, feeling warm.

Then Marilla's face changed. "I just hope we haven't put any undue burden on you…"

"What do you mean?" Anne asked.

"If we've talked so much about being proud of you that you feel pressure to be perfect," Marilla explained. "Because that isn't what we want. We'd be happier with you being a mediocre student if it meant you could sleep better at night."

Anne slowly realized what was going on: Marilla had finally noticed that something had been bothering Anne, and she was under the impression that it was her schoolwork.

"School isn't a problem," Anne explained. "I just…"

She wished she hadn't said school wasn't a problem, because now she didn't know what to say _was_ the problem.

Marilla looked intently at her. "Anne, you know, you can tell me _anything_."

Anne looked down at her lap, avoiding Marilla's eyes. She bit her lip. Finally she said, "There _is_ something I want to ask to you about."

"Yes?" Marilla asked softly.

Anne let a puff of breath out. This was too frustrating. "Um…Marilla, on second thought, I'm _so_ tired right now. I feel like I'll fall asleep any second. Can it wait?"

Her eyes had bags under them.

Marilla looked at her a moment, then conceded. "All right. I'm glad if you can get some good sleep tonight for once. You do look awfully tired."

She stood up. When she got to the door, she said, "You'll talk to me about it, though? Later?"

Anne nodded.

After Marilla left, Anne sat curled up in a ball. She went back and forth in her mind for several minutes, arguing with herself, but finally she came to a conclusion:

 _No matter how scared I am, no matter how badly this will go, I have to tell them._

 _I have to._


	122. Mean

The next day, Anne went to school feeling more determined to try to fix things.

She'd agreed to talk to Marilla- she realized she really _needed_ to- but she wasn't quite sure exactly how that was going to go down yet.

But she knew she had to do something to put an end to Billy's attention on her.

Billy _was_ back to trying to be nice to Anne, at Jane's insistence. Jane was put out with him because he hadn't done anything nice the day before.

But Billy had tried to explain to Jane that being nice every day was too difficult, and he needed a day off now and again.

Jane wasn't going to have it.

So Billy tried again.

But after a long and difficult morning, and Anne clearly upset, Jane pulled Anne off to the side when everyone was leaving the cloakroom with their lunches.

"Anne, did my brother say something mean to you without me hearing?" she asked, concerned.

"No," Anne said, looking a bit sick. "No, he's been extraordinarily charming."

Jane smiled. "Well, that's good then, isn't it? I didn't want him to be mean to you anymore."

"No, it's not," Anne said dryly.

Jane's smile faded away. "What do you mean? I thought you'd be happy if he was nicer."

"Jane, it's not that I want him to be mean, I'm glad he isn't being mean anymore, but…" Finally she shook her head. "I can't explain it. But him being nice is making me feel worse, somehow."

She looked so sad that Jane felt desperate. "Anne…"

"What?" Asked asked tiredly.

"Billy is sorry for the things he did. I know it doesn't seem like it, but…"

Anne's breath caught in her throat. Did Jane know something? Or did she just mean the way Billy treated her in general?

The two girls stood staring at each other for a moment, neither one knowing what to say.

Finally Anne said, "All right. It's enough for me to know he's sorry…he doesn't need to show it."

Jane bit her lip.

"I mean it, Jane. Tell him I forgive him, if that's what he wants to hear. I don't care, whatever will get him to stop trying to prove how nice can be."

Jane nodded. "…Ok," she said. She felt unsettled. She watched Anne walk back to the other girls.

Before joining her, she went over to where Billy was sitting with his friends. Billy, seeing her, got up and moved off to the side.

"New plan," Jane said. "You don't have to be nice to her anymore."

Billy grinned. "I don't?"

"No. For some reason she doesn't like that."

Billy laughed. "She's so weird."

Jane looked sad. "I don't understand it either, but whatever you did really messed her up."

Billy had a proud gleam in his eye.

Jane felt incredibly sad. She couldn't help Anne and she couldn't change Billy.


	123. Bruises

Anne decided she would tell Marilla and Matthew both, no question about it now, and she wouldn't wait to find out if there was a baby first. She'd just push the news out of her- as Gilbert had said, _One fail swoop and it's over._ If a baby came, they'd find out it was coming at the same time she did. …And hopefully they'd be by her side as she dealt with that reality. But come what may, she had to do it.

But she _did_ want to wait until after Christmas. She wanted her first Avonlea Christmas to be a happy one, and sharing unpleasant news was not going to accomplish that. But, she decided, she would _not_ wait for weeks after Christmas, like she'd told Gilbert. No, she'd have Christmas and let it be wonderful and then the very next day she'd sit them down and explain it all to them. _December 26th_ , she told herself. _That's the day._

Once she had decided this, she felt a strange mix of anxiety and relief. She couldn't reconcile the two.

The emotional upheaval was still going strong, even after the effects on her body left her.

They had gone away, little by little:

Her arms and legs stopped aching, her wrist got better, and she no longer felt the physical pain of Billy forcing himself on her.

Over time her bruises faded, turning from angry purple to sickly green, and finally a soft brown that gradually melted away.

Anne had thought that as long as she wasn't going to have a baby, then once her bruises were gone, she would be all better...when the bruises were gone, there wouldn't be anything to look at to remind her of the moment she'd been pushed to the ground.

It hadn't worked that way.

But at least with the bruises gone, she could take a bath without closing her eyes.


	124. Everything

The day before school let out for a week for Christmas, Gilbert brought something to school to give to Anne when he dropped her off at the edge of the snowy meadow.

He'd kept it in his bookstrap all day, and now could finally present it to her:

"It's a Christmas gift," he explained, placing it into her hands.

"But...I don't have anything for you," she said sorrowfully.

"That's all right," he said with a smile.

"No, it isn't," Anne said.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, the gift isn't _really_ from me, not _technically_. My father is the one who thought of it. And it's not new, either- It's a book he already had. ...We're just giving it to you. To keep."

Anne looked down at it.

Gilbert smiled at the way she breathed in suddenly, as if the whole world had stopped turning on its axis.

For there, laying in her hands, was _Walden_.

Walden, by Henry David Thoreau.

She had read the excerpts in their reader over and over, delighting in it, and wishing she could read the whole book.

And now she could.

"He's had it for years...my mother was the one who introduced him to it, actually." Gilbert told her.

Anne looked shocked. "Oh, no," she said pushing it back toward him. "No, Gilbert, I can't take it, not if it was your mother's. It wouldn't be right. At least not to _keep_. It's a gift _enough_ just to let me borrow it."

Gilbert shook his head, pushing it back toward her. "No, he wants you to have it. I was showing him what we had in our readers, and how much you enjoyed it, and how good your recitations were in class, and...he said you reminded him of her."

"Really?" Anne asked, finding that to be an enormous compliment.

Gilbert nodded. "He said that when he saw the two of us reading together, it made him think of those days when he and my mother used to pass books back and forth and talk about them for hours..."

They stood a moment just looking at each other, neither one noticing the cold.

"Anyway," Gilbert finally said, almost laughing, like he'd somehow forgotten everything he was going to say, "I took a quote from the book- my favorite quote- and wrote it in the cover. It reminded me of you, so..."

Anne opened the book and looked at the inside cover.

It was the quote from Walden that said:

 _"I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."_

Anne smiled up at him, so many thoughts were rushing into her mind, but her eyes shimmered and told him all he needed to know.

Then he said, "My father liked that quote, too. He's the one who told me I ought to write it in the front cover."

Anne smiled. "It's... _everything_ ," she said breathlessly.

Then Gilbert spoke up, again. "Sorry if the book is written in in other places, though. My dad said that before he and my mother got married, they used to pass books back and forth, and if there was something they wanted to point out to the other, they'd circle things and make notes to each other in the margins...so your present might be a bit, well, defaced..."

Anne looked up into his eyes. "Thank you _so_ much. Thank your father too. I...I want to thank him myself."

Gilbert smiled. "He's been asking when I'm going to bring you by again. He said... _'she is an open window in a darkened room_ '."

Anne smiled. What a nice thing for someone to call her.

Gilbert did _not_ tell her that his father had also said, _"You've found a precious gem, son. Don't let her get away. I've never seen you so happy just to be in someone's presence."_ Gilbert had blushed without realizing it, and his father had noticed. When Gilbert said, " _It's not like that...she's just a friend, dad,"_ his father had responded, _"...All romance is grounded on friendship."_

After Gilbert left her, Anne went home in a cloud of happiness and sat down by the fire with her newfound treasure.

She again traced the words Gilbert had so carefully inscribed.

They meant so much.

Gilbert had apologized about the notes and markings in the book, but Anne was fascinated by the idea. She checked the inside back cover first, wondering if there was anything important there before she began reading the book. But all she saw was a page number jotted down in the corner.

But...

She shuffled through the book until she found the right page.

The page number written in the back cover _had_ meant something; for there, in the center of the page, _one_ sentence in the book had been underlined.

And when she read that sentence, something inside her flickered with new light:

 _"All romance is grounded on friendship."_


	125. Cookie Baking

A few days before Christmas, Marilla told Anne they needed to make cookies.

"Oh, good," Anne said happily. "What kind can we make? Can we make snickerdoodles? And shortbread cookies? We could chop up pecans to put in the shortbread, I think that would really add something _extra_ to it, don't you? Ooh, and can we make icing so we can have little sandwich cookies? Tillie brought some for lunch one day and she said they were called whoopie pies. Isn't that a funny name? And can we make the kind where you put your thumb in the middle and there's jam in it? Marilla, do you have any Confectioner's sugar?"

Marilla laughed. "I was thinking of sugar cookies, but I suppose I wasn't being creative enough. Let me see what we have that we can use."

Marilla liked to keep things neat and tidy, but Anne's idea of a good time involved being liberal with the sugar and singing as she worked.

Marilla began by telling her to be careful where she poured things and to stop spinning around before she knocked mixing bowls off the table, but quickly gave up, being unable to quell Anne's excitement over getting ready for Christmas.

Finally, Marilla made the decision to find it amusing instead of a bother. There was no need to criticize her, it was nothing that couldn't be cleaned up in the end. Besides, Anne was happy and full of energy, and that brought Marilla relief.

Finally Marilla decided that working together in the kitchen would be an ideal time for she and Anne to have a heart to heart talk about whatever had been troubling Anne.

"I thought you might want to talk to me while we work," Marilla said.

"We are talking," Anne said, laughing as the flour puffed back up into her face.

"I meant about what was troubling you. Remember the other day, you said you wanted to ask me about something, but you were too tired to talk, and you said you'd talk about it later."

"Oh," Anne said, stopping short.

"Wouldn't this be a good time for the two of us to talk? We're busy working together, and Matthew's out for the afternoon."

Anne didn't say anything.

Marilla noticed how quickly she had changed from carefree and talkative, to serious and quiet.

"Anne?" Marilla prompted.

Anne didn't move for a moment, and then she slowly said, "I don't think I want to talk about it anymore."

"Anne-"

"Well, see, Marilla, something was worrying me, but it all worked out now, so there's no problem anymore," Anne tried to say.

"But don't you think you ought to tell me what it was?"

 _I will_ , Anne thought. _I will soon. Just give me a little time._

"It doesn't seem important anymore," Anne shrugged.

Then she turned to Marilla. "We're baking too many cookies just for _us_. Who are we going to share them with?"

"Don't change the subject, we're talking about you now," Marilla said.

"But there's nothing to talk about!" Anne said.

"The fact that you _won't_ tell me makes me worry it was something serious," Marilla began.

Anne didn't look at her, preparing to tell a lie.

"It was about school. I was upset. Mr. Phillips is mean to us sometimes. He makes fun of some of us for how we look and he laughs at us when we get answers wrong."

Marilla looked upset. "Perhaps I'll go in and speak to him-"

"No!" Anne said. "Don't. See, it's all right now. He doesn't do it anymore. That's why I didn't want to mention it. Because I didn't want you to overreact since he's being so much nicer now, there's no need…"

Marilla looked unhappy, but placated. "All right. If you're sure. But you'll tell me if he's back to it, won't you? Being strict is one thing, but being cruel is another."

"Yes, yes, of course I will," Anne assured her. "Now who are we going to take cookies to?"

Marilla smiled. "Jerry, for starters. We'll send Jerry home with a great big basket of cookies. I'm sure his family will appreciate that."

"Marilla…" Anne began, remembering what Gilbert had suggested about Jerry's family helping her with her baby.

"Yes?"

"Do you know if Jerry has any sisters who need a job?"

"I don't know if they do or not," Marilla said. "What's got you thinking about jobs?"

"Nothing. I just…I know their family needs money, so I just wondered…"

"Did you hear about a position open somewhere?" Marilla asked, curious. "We can certainly let Jerry know. He can take the news home to his family and see what they think."

Anne shook her head. "No, I don't know of any. I just thought _if_ one opened up, that's all."

Marilla gave her a strange look.

"If a job happened to come along…" Anne trailed off, then spoke up, "Marilla, do you know how much money somebody would want for watching a baby?"

"I haven't had much cause to think about something like that, not being in need of those services myself," she said with an amused look.

Anne didn't look amused.

Marilla said, "What's this all about? You look troubled."

Anne tried to look cheerful. She couldn't say that she was inquiring about it because she herself might need to find a girl who could do some babysitting.

So instead she said, "Oh, I thought about seeing if I could do some babysitting for someone."

"That surprises me," Marilla said. "I thought you were relieved your days of minding children were over."

Anne took a breath and peaked into the oven to check on the cookies. "Well, babies aren't so bad. It might even be fun."

 _It wouldn't be fun_ , she thought, looking in at the cookies through the oven door. _But as I haven't got any choice in the matter, I may as well try to make the best of it and imagine that it could be fun._


	126. Baby Presents

"You bringing up babies reminds me," Marilla announced, "Emily Perkins asked us to come visit her. Her baby is a few weeks old now, and they're starting to receive visitors."

Anne did not want to go see the baby.

"Marilla," she said, "Do I have to go? I don't even know them."

Marilla looked surprised. "Emily mentioned to me to be sure I brought you along. She wants to meet you."

"All right," Anne said sadly.

"Cheer up," Marilla told her. "You just said you'd like to do some babysitting. Maybe Emily will let you help her with the baby."

Anne inwardly groaned. She really had no desire to even go see Emily's baby, let alone take care of it.

"Okay," Anne said, resigned. "Do we have to bring her something?"

Marilla shook her head. "Well, I'll bring along a casserole for them. And we should take her some of our Christmas cookies. But no, I already gave them a gift at her baby shower."

"What's a baby shower?" Anne asked.

"You don't know? I'd have thought with all your child care experience, you'd have seen them before."

Anne shook her head. "No one I was with ever had a baby shower."

"Oh," Marilla said, "Well, it's a party. When a baby is coming, friends and relative all come together and have a little party for the mother-to-be. Pretty little treats to eat, and games. And everyone brings presents."

"I didn't know you got to have a party just for having a baby," Anne said. "What kind of presents?"

"Everything the baby will need," Marilla answered.

That disappointed Anne. The presents would be boring, if they were just things for a baby.

But on the other hand, at least it helped provide for the baby. She'd been wondering how she was going to get all the things she'd need for the little creature.

But then she thought that even if the presents were boring, it _would_ be sort of exciting to get to open presents at all, no matter what they were.

"I suppose having a party and getting presents makes having a baby not be such a tragical event."

Marilla laughed in her surprise. "Why, Anne! A baby is a happy occasion. And one's friends and family are delighted to join in in welcoming the little one."

Anne's heart sank at Marilla's words. _Of course your friends and family are happy to welcome it, if it had been done_ _ **properly**_ _. Who would be excited to welcome a baby when it's mother was unmarried?_

Besides, Emily was grown up. She thought Emily was at least 21 or 22. All Emily's friends were grown up ladies, too. All Anne's friends- well, the ones she was eager to call friends- were just young girls themselves. They wouldn't know anything about hosting baby parties and giving baby gifts.


	127. Christmas

Anne didn't have to think about Emily's baby anymore because Marilla said they'd wait until after Christmas to do their visiting. So Anne could forget about babies and just be excited about her first Christmas in Avonlea.

At church on Christmas Eve, Anne leaned in and whispered to Marilla, "When do we get to light our candles?"

"Shhh," Marilla said. "Not till the end."

There wasn't a sermon, exactly. The reverend simply read the Christmas story from the book of Luke, about Mary and Joseph and the baby being born.

When he reached the part about Mary finding out she was having a baby, Anne realized she'd been holding her hand over her stomach.

 _Mary must have been so scared,_ Anne thought. _What if no one believed her story? At least she had Joseph…he didn't blame her. He said he wanted to marry her, even if she was about to be scorned by society._

She turned her attention back to the reverend, who now said that the shepherds who came to Mary told them that God had said her baby was special.

 _But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart._

Anne pondered, too.

After that, more scripture was read, people taking turns reading bits of it, but Anne wasn't listening. She was thinking about the new life inside her-if there _was_ one.

Marilla nudged Anne, and brought Anne's attention back to the service. It was the time Anne had been waiting for.

Anne hadn't known how the candlelight would be done, but now she saw that the flicker of light began at one end of the church and was passed on and on and on until every person had their own.

Marilla's candle was lit first. She touched the wick to Anne's candle, to pass the flame to her.

Anne watched her candle slowly light up, and then she dipped her candle to Matthew, to light his.

And the flame spread through the congregation, and the church became brighter and brighter as dozens of tiny flames glowed in the darkness.

The congregation began singing now, in hushed tones: _Silent Night_.

Anne joined in and tears came into her eyes. She didn't know if it was the beautiful music- soaring up into the rafters like a prayer to heaven- just as she'd imagined, or if it was just that the story of Christmas had touched her in a deeply personal way.

As _Silent Night_ faded out, voices growing more and more quiet and the strains of the violin coming to a close, all was still and quiet for a long moment.

Anne looked around at the faces of the people she knew, in the shadows and lit only by the flickering candles they held. What _was_ it about candlelight that made everything feel mysterious and magical?

And suddenly, before she knew it, the church organ began with a joyful noise, filling the quiet church, and the congregation burst into a happy rendition of _Joy to the World_.

Anne felt goosebumps from the powerful feeling of being swept up into something glorious. The song made her heart soar. Soon she opened her mouth again and burst into song, feeling lighter than she'd felt in a long time.

Marilla noticed, as church ended, a tiny teardrop, shining like a pearl, in the corner of Anne's eye.

But coming out of church after the candlelight service didn't seem sad at all. Everyone called and waved to people they knew, and parted with hugs to all their friends and neighbors.

The drive home was happy too- a gentle snow began to fall, making the night feel especially Christmasy.

After they returned to Green Gables after the Christmas Eve service, Anne was heading up to bed when Marilla called her back. "Anne, Matthew has a little gift for you. And so do I."

"Wait- I have gifts for you, too!" Anne said excitedly. She dashed up the stairs, making a racket.

Marilla laughed. "Once she's excited about something, she can't contain it, can she?"

Anne came tumbling down the steps just as noisily as she'd gone up them.

She was holding something behind her back. "You'll have to shut your eyes, because they're not wrapped. And put out your hands."

She waited expectantly while they shut their eyes. Into Marilla's waiting hands she placed her kettleholder that Diana had helped her with. Into Matthew's hands she placed the scarf she'd spent every moment working on for the past week. She'd been afraid she wouldn't finish it in time, but with a lot of effort, she had, and she felt very proud of the result.

"Now you can open them," she said happily.

"Why, Anne," Marilla exclaimed. "How thoughtful. It's just what I needed. And look at how nicely crafted it is. I can see you've been working hard!"

Anne beamed.

Matthew was putting his scarf around his neck. "I'm a lucky man," he said simply, leaning forward and giving her a kiss on her forehead.

Anne smiled sweetly at him. "I picked that color because it exactly matches your eyes, Matthew. And you have such _breathtaking_ eyes. I wish mine were that way. Doesn't it bring out his eyes beautifully, Marilla?"

Matthew didn't say anything, but blushed. Marilla smiled. "That it does, Anne."

"Well," Matthew said, "Now for yours."

Anne almost jumped up and down she was so excited to be given a Christmas gift. It was small and square and wrapped in the most beautiful gold paper, with an evergreen colored ribbon tied around it.

"I had the lady at the store wrap it," Matthew explained.

Marilla thought that paying to have it gift-wrapped at the store was a silly expense when he could have wrapped it more simply at home, but she didn't say anything, because Anne was so excited about the way it looked.

"The ribbon is a gift all in itself," Anne stated, touching it. "I can wear it in my hair. I'm glad it isn't pink or I couldn't get any use out of it at all."

Marilla smiled. "Green is a lovely color for redheads."

Anne slowly slipped the ribbon off. She put one finger under the edge of gold paper and timidly slipped it from the box. Her hands were shaking with excitement, but she forced herself to go slowly. The paper was too pretty to tear.

Once she had it open, she saw that it was a small wooden box with a painted picture of an evergreen tree on top. "Is it…is it a jewelry box?" Anne asked hesitantly. She didn't have any jewelry, but she loved the box with all her heart anyway.

"Open it and see," Matthew said.

Anne lifted the top, and suddenly a tune began. She was so startled she almost dropped it.

"It's a music box!" she cried delightedly.

She looked up at Marilla. "Marilla, it's a music box!"

"I know," Marilla said. "I told Matthew it was a foolish sort of gift, it isn't _useful_. But he insisted, and I must say I'm _glad_ he did, because it's nice to see you smile so."

Anne looked up at her, smiling again. Then she said, "It's _very_ useful. I'll never be sad again with something like this. Imagine being able to hear a song any time you want to! Oh my goodness," she realized with a laugh, "I've been so excited, I've talked over it- I don't even know what it's playing!"

She stopped talked and listened. "It's _Oh Christmas Tree_ ," she said in a hushed voice. "Isn't it _wonderful_?"

"I told Matthew that if he _must_ get a music box, he ought to get one that doesn't play a Christmas song, because what will you do with it the rest of the year?"

"It's even better that it's a Christmas song, Matthew!" Anne insisted, launching herself into his arms, startling him. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, his hands, rough from farm work, patting her on the head. Anne looked up at him, "You see? Because it's a Christmas song, I'll be able to have Christmas all year long!"

Marilla laughed. Then she said, "I feel my gift for you might be a bit anticlimactic after all that, but you'll get use out of it, that's for sure."

She handed Anne a box that had been laying on the sofa.

It was wrapped in plain brown paper. Anne slowly opened it.

"They're just new house slippers," Marilla said humbly. "But you need them."

They were soft but sturdy. At first Anne thought they were just plain and brown. But when she picked them up she noticed they were embroidered around the ankle- tiny periwinkle flowers lined the edges.

She threw her arms around Marilla. "They're… _sublime_."

Marilla looked pleased. "Well," she said, downplaying the sudden rise of feeling, "They're just something you needed, is all. To keep your feet warm. We can't have you catching cold."

When Anne went to bed, she didn't think one bit about what the future held for her. She lived, instead, in the moment, and a very happy moment it was. She kept her new slippers on as long as she could, and when she finally got into bed, she brought her music box into bed with her. She had such a peaceful feeling, and with warmth in her heart she realized that _this_ was what it felt like to be someone's cherished daughter, and she wanted to hold on to the memory of this feeling forever.


	128. Partial Truth

The day after Christmas, Anne went downstairs and found Marilla baking.

 _Time to get this over with_ , she thought miserably.

She stood there a few minutes, watching Marilla. Marilla didn't notice her standing there, and after a long pause, Anne said:

"Marilla?"

"Yes?" Marilla turned around, noticing her for the first time. "Good morning, Anne. Did you sleep well?"

Anne didn't answer her.

Marilla looked at Anne's eyes, large and glassy, and unresponsive to Marilla's greeting.

"Goodness, child, what is it? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I…need to tell you something."

"All right," Marilla said, dusting her floury hands on her apron.

Anne just stood there.

Marilla's face changed. "You told me you'd tell me if Mr. Phillips was treating you children badly again-"

Anne cut her off.

"That's not what this is about," she stated flatly.

Marilla slowly sat down at the kitchen table and patted the chair next to her. Anne, feeling a bit sick, pulled the chair out from the table and sat down.

She didn't look at Marilla.

She decided it would be easier to begin by telling Marilla about the obvious injury, before she broke the news about anything more.

"I told you a lie."

"Okay," Marilla said, waiting for her to go on.

"It's about my wrist. I…didn't trip that day. Someone grabbed my arm and twisted it."

"Oh, Anne!" Marilla said, looking concerned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anne blushed. "I…I didn't want you to be angry with me."

"Why on earth would I be angry with you?" Marilla asked, her concern showing.

Anne shook her head. "Because…I thought you would think it was my fault that it happened."

Marilla sat back. "Why don't you tell me the whole story. How did the fight start?"

Anne bit her lip. "Well, it wasn't a fight. Not exactly."

"It was unprovoked, you mean?"

Anne shook her head. "It was provoked, sort of. Only I didn't mean to provoke it…"

Marilla looked put out. "Anne, be plain about what you mean. When did this happen? Was it at school?"

"I was _nearly_ to school," Anne began. "But then I didn't go to school, Marilla. I ought to tell you the truth. I stayed in the woods until school let out because I was hurt and I didn't want to come home and have to tell you, but I didn't want to go on to school hurting, either. And I was hurt somewhere else, too, so…"

Marilla looked sorry for her. "You ought to have come back home if you were hurt, Anne. You mustn't be afraid to tell me if something like that happens. Where else were you hurt?"

Anne couldn't say it. …Maybe she could point. She let her pointed finger travel down, but she lost her nerve and stopped when she reached her stomach.

"Schoolyard fights happen, but my goodness, a punch to the stomach can be very dangerous," Marilla said, upset. "It can even cause internal bleeding! Have you had any unusual bleeding, Anne? You must tell me if you have."

Anne hesitated, then shook her head. She _had_ bled, but she didn't think the blood had anything to do with her stomach.

"Who was this girl? I'd like to have a word with her parents," Marilla said angrily, standing up.

Anne froze. Marilla had assumed she'd been in a fight with one of the other girls.

"Um…" Anne didn't know what to say.

She tried to say the name, but her lips wouldn't form the word.

"Marilla, I- I can't tell you who it was."

"Why not?!"

Anne looked so upset suddenly. "I just can't. Please, Marilla. I…I want to go. Can we have asparagus with dinner? I'll go down and get the jars," She said quickly, desperate to change the subject.

"We can have asparagus," Marilla nodded. "And you can go down and get it. After you tell me who hurt you."

"I don't want to tell you," Anne said, upset.

"Why not?" Marilla was bewildered.

"Because…because it wasn't a girl."

Marilla looked even angrier now.

 _Stop being angry_ , Anne thought miserably. _I can't tell you anything if you're angry…_

"Anne, I want to know who it was this instant," Marilla demanded.

"Billy. Billy Andrews."

Marilla was shocked. "That boy is much too old to be picking fights. And to beat up on a little girl! I'm going to have a word with him, you can be sure of that. Did you tell your teacher?"

Anne said, " _No!_ Marilla, I don't want anything done about this. _Please_. I only told you so that I wouldn't be keeping secrets from you anymore. I never thought about you _approaching_ him that way. Please don't. It would be simply _awful_."

"His parents should know. He should know better. And Mr. Phillips should know that he's fighting girls. It needs to be nipped in the bud, Anne. He mustn't be allowed to think that's acceptable behavior, especially at his age."

Anne was distraught. "Do you _have_ to say anything to anyone?" she asked. "It was so long ago now, and it's never happened again, Marilla."

Marilla took a breath, looking like she might possibly be planning to try to calm down.

Anne rushed on, hoping she would: "He told me he was sorry," she lied. "He…he's been being really nice to me since then."

Marilla sighed. "That's good to know. Perhaps I shouldn't fly off the handle. If he had a…a momentary lack of judgement…and he's changed for the better…I _still_ think it ought to be mentioned to Mr. Phillips, but…I suppose if he's truly changed then I ought to forgive it, if you've forgiven it."

Anne nodded, trying not to cry. "I have. Please don't say anything to anybody."

"Well, I'm glad you've told me the truth. I don't like you keeping secrets from me."

Anne nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't mean that as criticism, Anne. I only want what's best for you, and I hope you know that. If someone hurt you, you ought to tell me so that I can be of help to you."

"…okay," Anne agreed. "Marilla, I'm…I'm going to go read…all right?"

 _That was hard_ , Anne thought as she walked into the parlor. _It was really, really hard. But I did it. So I CAN do the rest._

… _But I can't do it right now. …I can't tell her things if she's going to get angry like this. Why can't she just listen to me? It would be so much easier to tell her if she stayed calm. I know she's only angry because she cares about me, but…it's too hard to tell somebody something when you know they're going to get angry…at least she wasn't angry at ME, though._

Her hands were shaking from the act of talking about it, and she felt sweat on her face. As she tried to calm her beating heart, she told herself _It's ok to take a break for right now_ … _as long as it's only a break and not an excuse to stop talking altogether._


	129. After Christmas

The first day back to school after Christmas was a happy day because Anne got to see Diana.

While Diana tried to be very modest about her Christmas, and felt uncomfortable bragging about her gifts, Anne asked so many questions that Diana eventually was forced to explain the minute details of every single present she had received. Anne did not think it was bragging in the slightest, and she loved hearing about the new cranberry colored taffeta gown and the fur muff and the kid gloves and the ruffled pillow sham and the tiny little locket on a silver chain. When Diana finally reached the end of her rundown of gifts, feeling as if she'd been horribly boastful, she still wasn't finished- Anne then turned to her for descriptions of Minnie May's presents. Anne had never owned a doll in her life, and delighted in hearing about Minnie May's new china doll that had come with a miniature porcelain tea set and a trunk full of seven dresses- one for every day of the week, Minnie May had said proudly- and a little pink bed and a vanity table with a pitcher and a teeny tiny lace towel.

Diana was pleased to hear about how much her help with the kettleholder had contributed to making a happy Christmas for Anne. Best of all, she said that her mother seemed to have gotten over her distrust of Anne, and perhaps full of the holiday spirit, had told Diana she was free to have Anne come over after school one day.

Anne was also relieved to see that Billy still wasn't paying any attention to her. That helped her mood immensely.

After school on Monday, Jane approached Anne.

Jane's guilt over her brother's actions instilled in her a deep need to show friendship to Anne. She made a commitment to herself to do the right thing since her brother wouldn't.

"Anne," she said, "Would you like to come over to my house after school?"

Anne was momentarily exhilarated at being asked over to one of the girls houses.

But then her face fell.

She wished that the one girl who seemed insistent on becoming her friend was not the _same_ one girl whose house she _never_ wanted to set foot in.

…But Jane's face seemed to fall at exactly the same time Anne's did, as if Jane _too_ had realized some aspect of inviting Anne to her house that wouldn't work.

"Maybe going to my house isn't a good idea after all," Jane said, treading carefully.

 _What did I do wrong?_ Anne wondered sadly. She didn't want to go, but she hated to think Jane had changed her mind and didn't want her there.

Jane looked as if she wanted to say something more, but didn't. She told Anne she'd see her tomorrow and she gathered up her things, leaving with her brother and sister.

When Jane thought about Anne later, she wondered if she should tell her parents about what Billy had done.

She did not want her brother to get in trouble.

She'd thought if she could get Billy to change- if Billy could treat Anne with kindness- then Anne would start to feel better, and they could all be ok.

But Billy wasn't going to change and Anne wasn't going to be okay no matter what Billy did.

 _He really messed her up_ , Jane thought sadly. _And it's going to take more than a few compliments from Billy to make her happy again._


	130. Progress and Hesitation

That afternoon, walking home, Gilbert asked, "So did anything new happen during the week off?"

Anne could have rolled her eyes, but didn't. He wasn't asking how her week had been, he was asking whether or not she'd told her family. But at least this time she could answer positively.

"I told Marilla about my arm," she said. "I told her that I didn't just trip."

"You told her that?" he asked, hopeful. "That it was hurt on purpose?"

Anne nodded.

Gilbert looked happier than she'd seen him look in a long time. "That's great, Anne! I'm so happy for you."

"Well don't be too happy. It didn't go very well."

"Oh," he said disappointed. "She didn't blame you, did she?"

He hoped not. All this time, he'd kept encouraging her to tell and assuring her that it wasn't her fault. How terrible for her, he thought, to finally tell her story, only to be blamed for it.

"No…she wasn't angry with _me_ ," Anne explained. "She was angry that it happened, though, and she wanted to do something about it. I was pleading with her not to…"

"Did you tell her it was Billy that did it?"

"Yes…I didn't _want_ to," Anne said, "But she was demanding to know, and I suppose it's good I told her it was Billy, but it doesn't seem like a good thing since she was going on about confronting him."

"Do you think she will?"

"I hope not," Anne said. "That would be…ugh," she shuddered, "Even my imagination fails me, I cannot think of a word to show how much I would _detest_ that. No good would come of it."

"Well, I'm glad you told," Gilbert said. "Do you think you're going to tell her the rest?"

Anne slowed down. "I will…I think," she said. "I decided I _would_. But…just not right now."

"You did so well, telling her that. You proved that you can do hard things, didn't you?" Gilbert tried to convince her. "It can't be too hard now to go back and tell her that something else happened after he hurt your wrist."

Anne bit her lip. "I told her that Billy had changed and that I'd forgiven him and it was all fine now."

"What? Why?" Gilbert asked, making a face.

Anne trudged through the snow. "Because I don't want her going over there and making a scene."

Gilbert shook his head.

"What?" Anne asked, annoyed. "You kept bugging me to tell and I did!"

Gilbert relented. "You're right, you're right- we should see this as a victory. I know it wasn't easy."

"Thank you," Anne said stoutly.

"But we should also be thinking of the next step," Gilbert continued.

"There is no next step!" Anne snapped.

He was quiet for a moment.

"I told you before I'd go _with_ you, remember?" Gilbert asked quietly. "I said I could sit right by your side while you tell them. You don't have to do it alone."

"I know," she said tightly.

"Well, I've been thinking. Would it help if I did the talking? And you could just sit there?"

She shook her head.

"Or maybe…"

"What?"

"We keep talking about how you need to tell them... But I think that's making it feel too much like a confession, you know?"

He paused a moment, then continued: "And that's not how this is. You're not going to them to make a _confession_ \- you're going to them for _help_. There's a difference."

"What difference does it make?" Anne asked. "Really? The end result is the same: them knowing, and me being embarrassed, and them being angry."

"It makes a lot of difference! If you had done something wrong, you'd have to go to them and admit what you did, right? And you'd have to do that _yourself_ , because that's part of taking responsibility for what you did- facing them and confessing it."

"Yeah," Anne agreed.

"…But this isn't like that. You're just telling them something you need _help_ with, and that's not really something you necessarily have to do _yourself_. Somebody else can tell them you need help."

Anne looked up at him. "You mean…"

"I mean you don't even have to be there."

There was a brief silence.

"I don't want to tell them-" Anne began.

"And this way you don't have to," Gilbert finished.

"But they'll still know."

"Anne, they _have_ to know," Gilbert pleaded.

"No! They don't! I decided to tell them, and I started to, but Marilla getting all upset over my wrist made me want to forget the whole thing. I…I'll _still_ tell them- I _think_ \- but I'm not going to _yet_ and I don't want to be pushed anymore!"

Gilbert didn't know what to say to that.

"Look, I told them _something_ , didn't I? And it's enough." Anne said firmly.

"But…what if…" Gilbert didn't know if he should re-introduce the topic of pregnancy, but the truth was, it was a good reason for her to tell her family the truth, sooner rather than later. "Anne, have you had any more reason to believe that a baby's come of it?"

Anne shook her head slowly. "I haven't been sick."

He let a breath out. "That's good."

They reached the edge of the meadow. "Look, just think about it, okay? You did part of it already."

"I will think about it," Anne said, her voice smaller now. "I decided to tell them, and I know I should go through with it. I just got scared...she got so _angry_."

"But not angry with _you_. That's the important thing," he pointed out.

He looked at her, concerned, and said, "Maybe she needs someone to explain to her what's going on before you tell her. Then when you tell her, she'll be ready."

They just stood there a minute, then Gilbert said, "You just say the word and I'll pitch in, ok?"

Anne nodded, not looking at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." Gilbert said.

Anne nodded. "See you tomorrow."

All right y'all, tomorrow's when it all goes down and becomes public, first to the school then to the cuthberts.


	131. It's Starting

At school, Josie seemed to be snapping at everyone for no reason, and Anne didn't want to put up with it. Anne wasn't exactly fond of Josie, but she longed for the approval and acceptance of the group of girls, so she kept her head down and didn't say anything.

When Ruby changed the conversation to boys, Anne was glad- not because she wanted to talk about boys, but because the topic seemed to put Josie in a better mood.

But then the inevitable happened- the topic of boys led to Billy.

Josie said, in a hushed tone, "His hair is just _perfect_ , isn't it? It's never a bit out of place, no matter what he does."

 _She's right_ , Anne thought. _His hair stays in place…no matter what he does._

Josie asked, in an excited voice, trying to be quiet, "Do you think Billy likes me? I mean _really_ likes me? He called me pretty that day, before the Christmas break."

Ruby spoke up, "He called Anne pretty, too. Right after he said it to you, Josie."

 _Thanks a lot, Ruby_ , Anne said inwardly.

She _knew_ that Ruby was holding on to the hope of Anne and Billy, because she didn't want to think that Anne had any chance with her beloved Gilbert.

Josie made a face, and Anne quickly spoke up, "I'm sure Billy said that just to be kind. He's…he's so nice that he probably just didn't want me to feel bad that you're so much prettier than me, Josie."

 _There_ , Anne thought. _Maybe that will fix it._

Josie cocked her head, thinking. "That _is_ true," she agreed. "But are you sure you don't like him yourself, Anne? You _do_ stare at him a lot…"

"No, I don't!" Anne said hotly.

"You kind of do," Tillie said. "I've noticed it myself."

Anne looked around. Each girl was staring at her with interest. Her face flushed.

She suddenly got up. "I don't like him and I don't care to talk about him or any other boy in this class. They're ridiculous. This is a waste of time!"

She pushed her food back into her basket and stomped away. She went to her desk, pulled her magazine out, and went to the cloak room to eat by herself.

She was glad she had the magazine to read. Each time she borrowed a magazine from Gilbert's father, she brought it to school with her- she didn't like to leave them at home for Marilla to find, because she didn't think Marilla would approve of the content. They were usually strange, foolish stories- and sometimes scary.

She settled down with her magazine and tried to ignore everyone else. After a few minutes, Diana approached her, followed by Ruby.

Anne slowly looked up at them.

"Hi," Ruby said timidly.

"Hi," Anne answered.

"We want to come eat with you," Diana said. "Can we? Josie's got nothing to talk about except boys. And we don't care about that, do we, Ruby?"

Ruby shook her head, but Anne could tell she was clearly being cajoled into it.

Diana sat down, and then motioned for Ruby to as well.

Ruby glanced over at Josie, but then she sat down next to Diana, sighing.

"What have you got there?" Diana asked pleasantly.

"Oh," Anne said, sitting up and being excited to share with them. " _Tales of the Mystifying_. It's a _fascinating_ publication. Every issue is full of stories about strange and mysterious things."

"Like what?" Ruby said, sounding a bit nervous.

"I only just got this one," Anne explained. "So I've just barely started it. I've only read two of the stories so far. But they're _astonishing_."

"Astonishing?" Diana said with a bit of excitement. "Well, do share, Anne! What are they about?"

Anne began, "The first one is about Abraham Lincoln. He was the president of the United States years and years ago."

"Oh," Ruby said, sounding let down. "An article about a president doesn't sound all that exciting."

"Oh, but it is!" Anne exclaimed. "Listen to this-" She gripped the magazine and read from it excitedly. " _Ward Hill Lamon, who was a good friend of Mr. Lincoln, recalled that the president had a strange dream foretelling his death_ -"

Diana and Ruby looked at each other. Diana felt sturdy enough to hear a spooky story, but she had no such confidence in Ruby.

Anne continued reading: " _In the spring of 1865, the president awoke from an eerie dream in which he had been wandering through the White House-_ that's where their president lives," she stopped to explain to the girls. "A great big white house someplace- anyway, listen to this: _as he wandered alone through the White House, he heard sobs echoing through the vast, empty halls. Then, he came to the East Room, where he found a catafalque-"_ She paused again, to tell the girls, "I didn't know what that was, either, but it explains it later on in the article. A catafalque is something they put on a coffin of a distinguished person lying in state."

Ruby didn't know what it meant to "lie in state", but she wasn't sure she wanted to know, not when the word "coffin" had come before it.

Anne excitedly continued _, "When he finally found a guard, he asked the man…"_ she trailed off, delighting in the suspense.

"What did he ask?" Ruby whispered.

" _Who is dead in the White House?"_ Anne said, looking at them, finding the story to be delicious.

Ruby shivered.

Diana spoke up. "It wasn't something that really happened to him, remember."

Anne went on, _"The guard told him, 'The president. The president was killed. By an assassin."_

Diana looked back and forth from Anne to Ruby. "This was just a dream he had, Ruby."

Anne looked up at them. "Yes, it was all a dream. But then…only days later, he was shot to death at the theatre by an _assassin_!"

Ruby hugged her arms.

Diana looked over at Ruby. "Anne, maybe you better go on to the next story. That one doesn't have eerie dreams in it, does it?"

"No," Anne said. "That one's even better! It's a story about two little sisters who became famous and toured the country."

Diana was relieved. "Good, that sounds like a better story. Ruby, you'd like a story about two sisters who traveled, being famous. Were they musicians, Anne?"

"Oh, no," Anne said. "They were famous for having visions of spirits. This was in New York. Their names were Kate and Maggie. They lived in an old house and they began to hear weird noises in their bedroom."

Anne was enjoying the story, but she knew that late at night she would likely regret reading it. Ruby and Diana might not wait till nighttime to regret it, they'd go ahead and regret it right now.

"Kate and Maggie said that there had been a traveling peddler," Anne began to explain.

"My mother always says not to speak to peddlers you meet on the road," Ruby said timidly.

"Well, they didn't speak to him," Anne explained. "He was dead already when they first saw him. He was a spirit, tapping on their bedroom walls."

Diana cleared her throat. "How did they become famous, Anne?" she asked, hoping for a brighter end to the story.

"Word began to spread. Lots of people wanted to watch them try to _communicate_ with the _dead_."

"My mother says trying to communicate with spirits is a sin," Ruby whispered. "And it says so in the Bible."

"They were not _communicating_ with _anyone_ ," Diana said firmly. "Because there was nothing there. I'm sure the girls made the whole thing up. They must have had _very_ active imaginations." Diana was trying to send Anne a signal with her eyes, but Anne didn't catch onto it.

"They found the skeleton of a man later," Anne said mysteriously. "It was found hidden behind a wall in their home. Everyone said it was the peddler. He was tapping on their bedroom walls because he couldn't rest. His spirit was _destined_ to stay on this earth until his body was properly laid to rest."

"See, there's a picture," Anne said, handing the magazine to them.

Ruby took it, and looked hesitantly at the illustration of the two little girls holding a seance. She looked at Diana. "Do you believe in ghosts, Diana?"

"No!" Diana said, although she wasn't really all that sure. But she felt it her duty to protect Ruby.

"I'm not so sure anymore…" Ruby said, her voice quavering.

Diana sighed. "Ruby, there's no such thing as ghosts. Anne, _tell_ her there's no such thing as ghosts!"

"There's no such thing as ghosts." Anne repeated dutifully.

"Thank you," Diana said to her.

"There _are_ demons, though," Anne announced.

" _Anne_ ," Diana groaned. "You are not helping!"

"Well, there _are_ ," Anne said. "The Bible talks about _lots_ of demons. In fact I _just_ read the other day, in the book of Matthew, about that man who's just chock _full_ of demons. He lived in the _tombs_ ," Anne said, making her voice sound spooky for the word 'tombs'.

Ruby stared at her with big eyes.

Anne went on, "And they chained him up because he was so evil, all full of demons. But he broke right out of the chains because the demons gave him power. Well, Jesus came along, and when he asked for their names, eerie voices come _echoing_ out of the man's body, all at once, saying… _We Are Legion_ ," Anne finished dramatically.

Ruby began to cry.

"Anne!" Diana exclaimed. "You are not endearing yourself to Ruby this way!"

"Oh… Well, don't worry, Ruby, it ended all right. Jesus drove the demons out of the man and into a bunch of pigs instead, and they ran into the water and drowned…" Anne frowned and said unhappily, "I suppose it was a good ending for the possessed, but I thought it was _extremely_ unfair to the poor pigs."

Ruby shut the magazine quickly. "I don't want to look at this anymore."

But then she looked closer at the back cover. There, at the bottom, written in faded ink, was the name _John Blythe_.

Ruby frowned. "Where did you get this, Anne?"

"Oh, someone gave it to me," Anne said vaguely.

Ruby held up the back cover. The name on the back cover stared her in the face.

Anne's face flushed. "Oh…I mean…no one gave it to me, I just…found it. On the ground. Outside."

"Where?" Ruby asked.

"Just in the meadow near my house." This was not a lie.

"Well for you to have _found_ it on the ground near your house, someone must have _dropped_ it on the ground near your house!" Ruby said,snapping, tears springing into her eyes. "And I know who!"

Anne stared at her. "Ruby, I..."

"I _thought_ he was visiting you at your house!" Ruby cried. "And you said he wasn't! And you, Diana," Ruby turned to her, tears in her eyes, " _You_ told me I was imagining things. You knew all along, didn't you? About their…their _secret_."

Ruby got up and walked away, her head hanging low. She went back to the other girls. Within seconds, Anne was the recipient of furious glares.

Diana looked back and forth from the group to Anne. Diana even looked upset.

"Anne, why did you lie to me? You told me there was nothing between you and Gilbert. You told me you weren't seeing him and that you weren't walking home together. If you're not walking home together then why would a magazine from his house be found near your house?"

"Diana..." Anne said, her eyes growing wet.

Diana said, "Anne…I want to believe you. I'm your friend. But…you shouldn't have lied to me." She looked like she might cry. "Now what can I say to the other girls? I don't know how to fix this. Why didn't you just tell me the truth? …What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, _nothing_ ," Anne said, shaking her head and trying very hard not to cry. "Please…please be on my side! I've wanted _so_ much to tell you _everything_. But I _couldn't_. I…Diana, I'll explain. I promise. Give me a chance to explain."

Note- So Microsoft hates me and there's nothing I can do to salvage my chapter I wrote where Anne tells Marilla what Billy did to her. It's gone, and I tried everything to get it back. So I knew I'd have to just write that chapter again. …The problem is, it was an incredibly emotionally difficult chapter to write. I wrote it once and it helped me, but I could not write it again. So…we are heading in a different direction now…the story is going to go a bit differently, with other people finding out before Marilla. This is going to get dramatic and quickly and it's all coming out now. Here we go.


	132. Darling Diana (Warning- trigger)

Anne was shunned the rest of the day by the other girls, but Diana was reserving judgement until she heard Anne's side of things.

After school let out, Gilbert waited at the edge of the woods for Anne as he always did, but today Anne did not come alone. Diana was by her side as she approached Gilbert.

Gilbert did not have a conversation with them. He nodded in acknowledgement of Diana, and then looked at Anne, his face serious. "Is she, ah…she gonna join the club?" he asked.

Anne nodded.

Gilbert reached out and grabbed Anne's hand, squeezing it, even though Diana was right there to see it. Then it occurred to Anne that it didn't matter now, if Diana saw it, because she was about to know everything.

"I'll leave the two of you to talk, then," he said quietly. "Diana, would you walk her home?"

Diana nodded, feeling too dazed to say anything. She had no idea what was happening, or why they were holding hands.

Gilbert asked, "Is that all right with you, Anne?"

Diana stared at the strange sight, brief as it was, and then Gilbert let go of Anne's hand and walked away through the trees.

Diana turned to face Anne, puzzled. "What club?"

Anne looked sad. "The one nobody wants to be in," she answered.

Then she took Diana's hand. "I have a lot to tell you," she began. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just…" Anne stopped talking, looking helplessly at Diana, as if it was too much to try to explain why she had kept something from her bosom friend. " _Please_ don't be angry with me for hiding things from you."

Diana, seeing that Anne was truly burdened by something, leaned close, her deep eyes looking straight into Anne's heart, and told her, "We pinkie swore to be friends for as long as the sun and the moon shall endure, didn't we? I don't know why you were hiding things from me, but I'm sure you had a good reason for it."

Anne could have cried. She bit her lip and squeezed Diana's hand tighter.

"You don't know how good it is to hear that," she said. "It's been _awful_."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Diana asked.

"I will," Anne said, wiping her eyes. "I know it's cold out, but come with me…I'll tell you everything."

They made their way through the woods.

As they walked, Anne thought back to a conversation she'd had with Gilbert some afternoon many weeks ago:

"I'm worried because I thought you would get better and you're not, you're getting worse," he had said.

Anne had looked at him, offended.

"I don't mean you're a worse person. I mean worse like something is wrong, Anne, and I don't know that we can fix it."

"So you want out? I didn't expect you to have to go on dealing with this forever-"

"No, I _don't_ want out. I told you, I'm with you. We're in this together. Ok? We always have been. But I never thought it was a good idea to keep this a secret. Remember? I said right from the beginning that other people should know."

"You want to go telling someone now?! You promised me you wouldn't tell my secret! You _promised_." Anne had pleaded, feeling anger rising inside her.

Gilbert had shaken his head and said, "Don't think of it as the secret getting _out_."

"How else am I supposed to think of it? The secret would be getting out." Anne had snapped at him

He had taken a deep breath and said, "Think of it as going…in, not out."

Anne, annoyed, had shaken her head and said angrily, "You're not even making sense!"

"Listen to me. We wouldn't be letting the secret _out_. Okay? We'd be bringing someone _in_. We'd be bringing someone _into this with us."_

Now, Anne looked over at Diana. She felt sorrowful at the thought that she was about to destroy Diana's innocent little world.

She looked at Diana's curls and her pretty hat, remembering back to how she'd thought Diana shouldn't be "tainted" with a story like hers.

And Gilbert had told her not to put Diana on a pedestal- that Anne herself was every bit of the 'sweetness and light' she called Diana.

Anne smiled at the memory, thinking that Gilbert was too kind to her.

They reached Anne's makeshift hideaway and went in.

Diana found a bit of dry wood to sit on, but Anne didn't sit. She paced back and forth, in the small confines of the dilapidated house.

"Diana," she began, "What happened was-" she stopped. "You see," she tried. "It all began…"

She stopped talking, then: "Ugh!" she let escape, in frustration.

Diana looked startled.

Anne faced her, her shoulders slumping. Finally she dropped into the snow next to Diana and said miserably, "It's _very_ hard to know how to say this."

"What can I do to make it easier?" Diana asked helpfully.

"Diana, do you remember what I said about Prissy and Mr. Phillips?"

Diana nodded. "Of course!"

"Well, a lot of people got angry about that…" Anne began.

"I remember," Diana said. "But all that is forgiven and forgotten now, isn't it?"

Anne slowly shook her head.

"It _isn't_?" Diana asked. "Jane hasn't said a _thing_ about it, and…you'd think _she_ would bring it up if Prissy was still angry."

"I don't know if Prissy is still angry or not," Anne said, "But someone else was."

"Who?" Diana asked.

"Billy," Anne stated.

"Oh," Diana said. "Yes, well, I can see that- she is his sister, after all. But that was so long ago, what does it have to do with you and Gilbert meeting secretly?"

Anne took a breath and let it go slowly, feeling the weight of knowing she was about to forever alter something about Diana's worldview.

"It has to do with me and Gilbert because…this is all so complicated, Diana…"

She turned to Diana and said quickly, "That thing I said, about petting a mouse. In a pocket. It isn't _true_. That's not how intimate relations works."

Diana blushed. "All right," she said, uncomfortably.

"I know how it works now, for _real_. And I won't tell you- unless you really want to know- because I don't want to taint you, but…"

Diana spoke up, "Anne…forgive me, but…when you say you know how it works…are you…are you speaking from experience? You and… _Gilbert_ …are…"

"Nooo!" Anne said immediately.

Diana breathed a sigh of relief, but then asked, "You're not… _involved_ with him, though? Not at _all_?" She said quickly, "I mean, I know you can't be officially courting or anything- you're not even old enough for a boy to come calling- but I thought maybe the two of you were sort of…meeting in secret, writing love poems and gazing into each other's eyes, or something."

That made Anne laugh, and she let go of some of her tension.

"No," she said. "I can honestly say we've never written love poems. Far from it. We've had some of the most _awful_ discussions you could ever hear, and said _horrible_ things."

"What about?" Diana asked, bewildered by this.

Anne prepared for the worst. "Well…when I said I know how it works, I _am_ speaking from experience." She closed her eyes painfully. "Just not with Gilbert."

Diana looked at her with big eyes.

Anne could not look at Diana's face. It was all too horrifying.

"Well….who…."

"Billy," Anne whispered. She couldn't control the shudder that passed through her shoulders.

"But…Billy doesn't even like you," Diana sputtered, making a face. "I'm sorry, Anne, that was unkind. He _should_ like you, _everyone_ should like you! But….he…"

"But he _doesn't_ like me," Anne said, agreeing. "That's the _truth_. And I don't like him _either_."

Diana looked so confused.

Anne said, "Apparently liking each other isn't necessary." And she tried, unsuccessfully, to stop herself from crying.

"What do you mean, Anne?" Diana asked, turning to comfort Anne as she cried.

Anne took a shuddery breath and wiped at her cheeks. "I didn't want to do anything like that with him. Or with anyone. I didn't even _know_ about it! What _I_ thought about intimate relations, Diana, it was so far off, such a childish idea….I never knew….I never _imagined_."

"I guess I don't quite understand." Diana began.

Anne let herself cry a moment before she tried to go on.

"I was just walking to _school_ ," she said. "And suddenly there he was, and he was angry, and I couldn't even remember who he _was_ at first. But he grabbed my arm, and my wrist-"

"Your wrist," Diana realized. "Oh, no, Anne… _he_ did that?!"

Anne nodded. She should have been comforted that Diana expressed upset about her wrist, but she wasn't, because she worried that if Diana was getting upset over a wrist, who knew how she'd react to the rest of it? She stopped talking.

Diana put her arm around Anne and they just sat there a moment. Finally Diana said, "I'm so sorry he hurt you, Anne. It's terrible! Have you told anyone?"

"Just Gilbert and Marilla," she said.

"How does Gilbert come into all of this, anyway?" Diana wanted to know.

"He was there. The day it happened. You remember I didn't show up for school that day? Well, he didn't either."

Diana looked like she was thinking. "No, he hadn't gotten back from Alberta yet."

Anne shook her head. "No. He was back that day. He was on his way to school when he found me. He stayed in the woods with me all day. So…the next day, when he came into school, and everybody thought he'd just gotten back…well, he was supposed to have started the day before. But he didn't. Because of me."

"It's good someone was there," Diana said comfortingly.

Anne nodded and blew her nose into her handkerchief.

"What I don't understand, though," Diana broached hesitantly, "Is the part about…about… _relations_. If he hurt your wrist- and you don't like each other anyway- then why would either of you want to…I mean, how did that…"

Anne looked at her with large, watery eyes that were rimmed in red and far too tired. She shook her head, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She felt grateful that she hadn't _seen_ anything of Billy during the attack, but of course she felt everything that was happening and thereby understood what physical act had been done to her. …But she could not explain the practical knowledge to Diana. "You don't know how it works, Diana. And I don't think I can explain it to you."

"You could try," Diana said, hugging her to her side.

Anne shut her eyes and was bombarded with too many thoughts to cope with, none of them, she felt, were suitable for sharing with Diana.

Anne opened her eyes. She chose to give Diana the _condensed_ version, the abridged and revised version- still true, but leaving out any explanations of what she understood of human anatomy. "It wasn't…it wasn't anything romantical. Not at all. There wasn't anything leading up to it, there wasn't even any _asking_. It just…happened."

Diana looked thoroughly confused as to how intimate relations could "just happen".

Anne tried to explain: "He pushed me on the ground first. I hit the dirt _hard_ \- it took me a minute just to _breathe_ again…but then I was staring at his face, above me, with the sky behind him. The sky was gray. It was early enough in the morning that the sky was still gray…"

She opened her eyes quickly, needing to come out of that memory.

"I would have done something, really- if I _could_ have. But he's stronger than me, and…oh, I don't know, Diana, I guess…I guess they kind of have to overpower you to do it?"

Diana looked shock stricken and Anne wished that she hadn't revealed as much as she had.

"I don't know how he would even _know_ to do something like that!" Diana said, horrified. " _I_ wouldn't know about that. And you thought you did, but clearly you _didn't_. Why, I can't think of _any_ other girl who would _know_ about how to do _that_." Then Diana wondered, feeling awkward for even thinking about the subject- "Maybe boys just _know_?"

"Maybe. I don't know. He certainly seemed to know what he was planning to do," Anne said, her arms shaking.

"What did _you_ do?" Diana asked.

"Endured it," Anne said flatly.

Diana looked clearly out of her element.

Anne stopped a moment to remember to breathe.

Then she said, "Gilbert's been with me so much because I don't want to be by myself…especially not walking alone to school. I couldn't walk to school with you, because your mother didn't like me, and-"

"I'm sure she'll let me walk with you now, though," Diana said. "She's calmed down a lot, you know. Anyway, once she knows what happened to you-"

"No!" Anne said, "No, Diana, you can't _tell_ her about this- you can't tell _anyone_!"

"I understand you're not wanting to talk about it," Diana said. "It's one of those things that's…well, unmentionable. But I think in this case, Anne, it _must_ be mentioned. I'm sure it's a crime, wouldn't you think?"

Anne hadn't thought about that. "I don't know," she said. "I don't even know how to find out."

"Do you know Mr. and Mrs. Ryland?"

Anne shook her head.

"They have a son who went away to law school. Maybe we could write to him to ask."

"Diana…I'm not doing that. And you can't either." Anne shook her head. "Besides, what difference does it make if it's a crime or not, nothing's going to happen from it."

Diana bit her lip. "What should we do, then?"

"Nothing," Anne said firmly. "But now you know, so maybe you can help me with the girls."

"Of course," Diana agreed. "What'll I say to Ruby?"

"Just tell her I was telling the truth, that I really did find the magazine on the ground, and that Gilbert wasn't anywhere near me. It's not a lie, not really, because he left the magazine on the ground and he wasn't there when I went to get it."

"But how will we explain how a magazine from Gilbert's house arrived in your field?" Diana wondered. Then something hit her. "Mr. Blythe and Miss Cuthbert used to be friends!"

"They did?" Anne asked. This was news to her.

"Yes, they were _very_ close," Diana asked. "This was long before Mr. Blythe was married. …I think Miss Cuthbert and Mr. Blythe may have even been courting then."

Anne's eyebrows shot up. "They were _courting_?!"

Diana nodded. "I _think_ so. That's what I've heard. Well, whispers anyway. I wish I knew more."

"So do I!" Anne exclaimed. "I had no idea!"

"So," Diana went on, "That magazine is _old_. Old enough to be from Mr. Blythe's schoolboy days. Why don't I tell Ruby that she didn't give you a chance to explain, but that magazine was given to Miss Cuthbert _years_ ago?"

Anne let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Diana, you don't know how much better I feel."

"The only thing is," Diana thought of, "Is why it was outside in the field. I suppose we could say it blew away…"

"…while Marilla was clearing things out to get rid of!" Anne finished Diana's sentence. "Diana, you're a darling angel and I am so happy that you did that."

"I didn't really _do_ anything," Diana said, puzzled.

"Yes, you did! You provided the answers and came up with a solution! Now Ruby can't be mad at me anymore! She'll think I found an old magazine given to Marilla years ago and she won't think _Gilbert_ gave it to me, and she'll have no reason to believe we're walking to school together or _anything_!"

Then Anne's smile grew bigger. "And now that _you_ know- and now that your mother is all right with me- _we_ can start walking together!"

Diana was happy to see Anne so cheered. "We better get home, then," she said, "So we aren't walking when it's almost dark. Let's go."

When they reached the edge of the Cuthbert's land, Anne said, "Gilbert meets me here every morning. He'll come tomorrow, too, but I suppose that might be the last day! I'll tell him that you and I can start walking together now. It'll be a good thing for him, I'm sure he's tired of getting up earlier to walk all the way over here."

"I'm glad someone was there for you," Diana said, "Even if it wasn't me. I wish you'd have felt you could tell me, Anne, but I'm glad you did now, anyway."

"I didn't want to ruin you," Anne said.

"Ruin me?" Diana asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

Anne looked wistfully at Diana. "I didn't want to tell you anything so unpleasant and…graphic. You're just…absolute _perfection_."

Diana shook her head. "I'm glad my mother is all right with you again, because we're going to have to spend a _lot_ more time together. If you think I'm perfect then clearly you haven't spent enough time with me."

Anne couldn't help laughing. Diana hugged her and the two parted, and Anne felt another weight being lifted away.


	133. Slight Changes

That night Anne slept easier than she had in a while. She felt a little embarrassed of Diana knowing, but she was so relieved that Diana wasn't repulsed by her. And she was even happier that Diana would be able to walk with her and could help her with the other girls too.

In the morning, she sat in bed for a little while, waiting to see if there was any nausea before she got up. No, she was fine this morning. Happily, she got ready for school and went downstairs to breakfast.

"Anne, you look like you slept well," Marilla commented.

"I did," Anne said with a smile. She gave Marilla a hug before she left for school.

* * *

When Gilbert met her, Anne greeted him and then said, "Guess what? Diana's mother is okay with me again, so now we can walk to school together!"

She had thought he would be glad, but noticed a very brief look of disappointment cross his face, before he replaced it with a smile. "That's great, Anne."

"What's wrong?" Anne asked. "I thought you'd be relieved. No more getting up extra early to walk all the way over here and waiting in the snow."

"Yeah. It'll be great," Gilbert said.

They walked along a couple minutes without saying anything.

"What?!" Anne finally asked, knowing something wasn't right.

Gilbert shrugged. Finally he said, "I _like_ walking with you."

Before Anne could respond to that, Gilbert said, "I'm glad things went well with Diana. I know it wasn't easy to keep something like that from your best friend. Now that she knows, things will be easier, eh?"

"Probably," Anne agreed. Then she remembered something Diana had said and brought it up with Gilbert: "Diana said she thought it might be a crime."

Gilbert nodded. "Oh, I'm sure it is."

Anne was surprised. "You are?"

"A man would be hauled away for attacking a woman to rob her or beat her, how could it not be a crime to attack a woman to impose himself on her in that way?"

"You never said anything about it."

"You didn't want your family to confront Billy. Pointing out that it could be a crime wasn't exactly going to help."

She thought about that.

"Anne…I should tell you something. There have been a couple times that I confronted Billy."

"What?!"

"Yeah. After it happened- and after that day you ran out of school- when you hit me with your slate- I was going to meet you, but Billy came up to me and he started to insult you and I finally just let him have it."

"You hit him?"

Gilbert nodded.

Anne was okay with the hitting part.

"I told him I knew what he did to you, and that if he bothered you again, I'd rat him out."

"That's why you were able to get him to stop bothering me at first," Anne realized. "But, Gilbert, he didn't stop."

"I know," Gilbert said. "But I couldn't make good on my threat, because ratting him out meant telling your secret and I couldn't do that."

Anne calmed down.

"He knows you know, then." She stated.

Gilbert nodded. "I told him you didn't tell me, that I had just figured it out on my own. …I didn't want him to think you were going around telling people, because I worried he'd retaliate."

"And the other time?"

"It was after he confronted you outside school, to try to ask what you saw. I went over to his house and told him that you hadn't see anything, that you were mistaken, and he'd done what he did for no reason."

Anne didn't know how she felt about this.

"Are you angry with me?" Gilbert asked.

Anne shook her head slowly. "I don't think so," she said carefully. "I _don't_ like the idea of other people speaking _for_ me. But in a way, well…it helps that he _knows_ there's somebody looking out for me, I think. It…it could have been worse if he'd thought I was alone…"

Gilbert was relieved. "Good," he said. "I didn't mean to speak for you, I just…I just couldn't let him think he could walk all over you."

They reached school.

"So today's the last day, then," Gilbert said. "It's like the end of an era."

"Oh, don't put it like that," Anne begged.

He smiled. "Well, I'm happy you have your best friend back. That's what matters."

As always, Anne would leave first to go into school, and Gilbert would hang back a bit so it didn't look like they'd come together.

Before Anne walked away, Gilbert thought about how strange it was that she hadn't even left yet and he already missed her.

* * *

When Anne came in to school, Diana was already there. Her eyes were red and she was sniffling. "Diana, what's wrong?" Anne asked. "Are you crying?"

"No," Diana laughed a little. "It's just walking in the cold. It got to me this morning."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Anne said, giving her a hug from the side. "We're supposed to have a short winter this year," she said, trying to be helpful. "Gilbert told me that he read it in the Farmer's Almanac."

Diana looked at Anne with alarm, motioning backward toward Ruby.

 _Oops_ , Anne thought. Then she had an idea. She got her slate and quickly wrote, _did she hear me?_

Diana nodded slightly.

Diana got out her own slate and quickly wrote, _I talked to her before you got here. I told her our story of how the magazine was found._

 _Thank you,_ Anne mouthed to her _._

 _Don't say anything else about Gilbert!_ Diana wrote.

Anne nodded.

The school day started. Anne was nervous about lunch time, hoping Ruby would have forgotten about her saying that Gilbert had spoken to her about the weather. But lunch time was fine, with no talk about boys at all. Anne felt relief and hoped things would be better now.

Diana walked Anne home.

Anne was so happy she could walk with Diana, although it felt strange not to be with Gilbert. She was surprised at how much she already missed him. And she couldn't even say goodbye to him after school, because she couldn't let Ruby see.

Diana sneezed several times on the walk home. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. "It isn't that cold out. Today was milder than usual."

"I hope you aren't getting sick again."

"No," she said, her nose sounding stuffy. "I'm sure I'm not. I don't even have a fever. Once I get home and get warm, I'll be fine."

"Thanks for walking with me," Anne said. "I'm sorry you have to back track a bit to get home."

"It's fine," Diana said, sneezing again. "What are friends for?"

Anne hugged her.

* * *

The next morning, Anne waited for Diana, feeling happy to have her friend back.

But Diana didn't come.

Anne waited, getting more and more nervous, and finally decided to walk over to Diana's house. Maybe Diana had misunderstood and thought Anne was going to come to her house.

She nervously knocked on the Barry's front door.

After a moment, Diana's mother came to the door.

"Yes?" she said without smiling.

"Good morning, Mrs. Barry. Uh…Diana said you told her we could start walking to school together, and…"

"Diana is sick, I'm keeping her home today," she said. "You ought to have left already; coming here has made you late."

Anne didn't know what to say. "Oh…well…please tell Diana I hope she feels better."

"I will. Thank you," Mrs. Barry said, as she closed the door on Anne.

Anne turned around and faced the vast expanse of empty land.

She slowly walked down the porch steps and started walking.

It took her a long time to get to school. She kept constant watch around her, always making sure no one was around. It was easier when she was walking through fields, but when she had to pass through woodsy areas, it took all her courage to keep walking.

 _Remember to breath_ , she told herself. _If you hold your breath too long, you could pass out, and then you'd just be laying there, and anyone could come along and…_

When she got about halfway through the woods, she suddenly had the sickening feeling that is was going to happen again and there was no way she could save herself. The noises of animals scurrying in trees made her heartbeat thud in her ears. She could almost picture Billy Andrews looming at her from behind every tree she walked past.

 _He's not here,_ she told herself sharply _. He's in school, surely, and you're being ridiculous. …But what if some other boy, or some man comes along…I'm all alone._

She stopped walking, feeling dizzy, and she thought she was going to throw up. She looked around to be sure no one was nearby, as far as she could tell, and then she pulled her slate out of her bookstrap. She carried it, gripped tightly in her hand, as she continued through the woods. She could hit someone with it if need be. She had done it before.

By the time she got to school, she felt sick and shaky. She'd sweated through her clothes and the cold air through her damp dress made her freeze.

She hated to walk through the door and disrupt class, which of course was already in progress, and it didn't help that the door creaked loudly as she opened it.

Everyone turned and looked at her. She blushed and kept her head down as she slipped out of her coat and hat and set her lunch on the shelf.

Mr. Phillips was in the middle of handing back essays and telling the class that there were far too many spelling errors and he was gravely disappointed in all of them. He gave her a Look as she came in, but surprisingly he didn't say anything to her about walking in late.

She slipped quietly into her desk as Mr. Phillips set her paper in front of her. She glanced over at Gilbert. He had just received his paper, but he wasn't looking at it. He was watching her.

Anne looked down. She was still out of breath and unsettled, and now she was silently wishing for Gilbert not to look at her anymore, because she didn't want any of the girls to see.

All morning she tried not to throw up.

 _I did it, though,_ she told herself. _That's the important thing. I had to walk by myself and I did it._

Her heart beat was still thudding in her ears.

 _But I don't want to do it again. …Maybe Gilbert can walk me home._


	134. Ruby Gillis

At lunch time, Anne slipped outside, feeling sick and wanting fresh air. Ruby didn't think anything of Anne going outside until she noticed Gilbert watching her intently. When he got up and went outside too, Ruby became suspicious.

She hesitated a moment, then slipped out the door.

She wondered where they'd gone, then she saw Anne's elbow sticking out from behind the privy.

Ruby walked quietly over and slipped into the privy. Anne and Gilbert were standing right behind it, just on the other side of the wall.

Ruby knew she was being ridiculous, spying on them, especially since Diana had told her they were not seeing each other romantically.

 _But I just want to know for certain,_ she thought _. I don't want Anne to be my friend if she's intent on stealing my beau right from under my nose! …Well, so maybe Gilbert isn't my beau yet, but….he will be, as soon as we're old enough!_

She heard Anne say, "I didn't even notice your father's name written on the back, or I wouldn't have brought the magazine to school at all."

"Well maybe something good came out of it," Gilbert said. "You told Diana."

She told Diana _what_? Ruby's brow creased. _Diana told me there was nothing. Diana knows about them and she's keeping it a secret too! She lied to me!_

"You think the girls will give you any trouble?" Gilbert asked.

"No, I don't think so," Anne said. "Diana won't let it get out. And she's got Ruby convinced that nothing's between us. I'm so relieved. I don't know what I'd do if the girls all knew."

 _If the girls all knew about what?_ Ruby thought, a sob rising. _Your secret love affair?_

That was enough for Ruby to know that things were not what they seemed, and she was dead set on spying again to get the whole truth.

She hesitated after her friends left school at the end of the day, noticing that Gilbert and Anne both seemed to tarry until everyone was gone. Finally Ruby left the building, getting the distinct feeling that they were both waiting for her to leave. She hid behind the building until she saw them walking together toward the woods. Then she began to follow.

She kept a good distance behind, and saw them both duck into a ramshackle structure. One she knew they were inside, she crept up to it to listen.

"How are you feeling? Has the nausea gone down now?" Gilbert asked.

Anne must have either shaken her head or nodded, because there was no audible answer for Ruby to hear.

"I wish we could find out how much nausea there has to _be_ , or…or what kind of other symptoms you're supposed to be looking for. Not because I'm worried- I'm sure you're fine, Anne- but just so we could know sooner that there's nothing wrong."

 _What's he talking about?_ Ruby wondered.

"I probably only got sick because I let myself worry so much," she said. "But then I also can't help…every time I even feel the slightest bit sick, I panic…"

"I know," Gilbert said softly.

 _You know about what?!_ Ruby wanted to know.

There was a silence for a long moment, then Ruby heard Anne say wistfully:

"I know this is going to sound silly, with everything else going on, but it keeps cropping up in my mind so _often_...I've always dreamed of wearing a lovely crown of flowers in my hair, and a long, long lace train that flows behind me as a I walk…"

Ruby's mind was reeling. _She's talking about weddings…is she planning her wedding?!_

Gilbert smiled at her. "I can see it now. You look…hmm, pretty isn't the right word. I need an _Anne_ word. What would _Anne_ say? Ravishing? Scrumptious? Heavenly?"

Anne couldn't help smiling at Gilbert for that.

 _Gilbert is…in_ _ **love**_ _with her._ Ruby felt she'd been stabbed in the chest. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Marilla said-"

"Did you _tell_ her?" Gilbert asked.

Ruby was practically in tears. _Tell her what? That they're…that they're in love? They can't actually be getting married. They're too young. They must be announcing themselves with the intention to court…it'll be a few years before Anne's old enough to go courting, but it must be that, because what else could they be talking about?_

"No, I just asked about dresses," Anne told Gilbert, knowing she'd disappointed him. "And she said the veil is the _main_ thing. She said the dress doesn't matter so much, although many people say it does."

"Matter in what way?" Gilbert asked, his brow creased.

Anne looked at him. "In whether I can have one or not."

Gilbert looked confused for a moment, but then it dawned on him. She saw his eyes change the moment it hit him. "Oh, _Anne_ …"

"I know, I know," she said. "It sounds foolish of me to be thinking of dresses right now, what with all the terrible things that could happen, and I haven't even _told_ Marilla…" She shook her head. "It's just that…it's just that I've always _dreamed_ of it, and the thought of that dream being taken _away_ …"

"No," Gilbert said, "No, I wasn't going to call you foolish. Quite the opposite. I was going to say that you shouldn't feel as if what Billy did diminishes you in some way."

She looked sad for a moment, but then said, "I hate to worry so much about what other people say. But I don't want my wedding day spoiled by hearing people gossip about me."

"If you really can't wear white, then wear something close to it. There are lots of shades close to white, if it bothers you that much."

"There are?"

"Sure," He thought about it for a second, then said: "Eggshell. Ivory. Cream."

"That's true…" Anne considered. Then she said, "Ivory is pretty. It isn't white, but a white dress is a dream I'll have to give up, I suppose."

Ruby was confused by this. What was Anne even talking about? Why would people be gossiping at her wedding about whether or not she could wear white? What did that _mean_?

"I wish you wouldn't let what Billy did make you change anything you planned on. Just because you aren't a v-" Gilbert shut his mouth suddenly, deciding he needed to find something different to say. He took a deep breath and said, "I think the whole thing is hogwash. It's _your_ day. Wear whatever color you like. Wear forest green if it makes you happy. You'd look awfully pretty in it. What right does anyone have to tell you what you can and can't wear?"

Anne sat up straight and looked him in the eye. "You know what? You're right. You're absolutely right. The whole thing is _completely ridiculous_. In fact, it's _preposterous_. And it's very unfair to women! Women wear white dresses and veils, but men don't! In fact, no one cares _what_ a man wears on his wedding day. I've never heard anyone discuss _men's_ wedding attire."

Ruby rolled her eyes. Anne was always comparing what men did to what women did. As if they were the same thing at all. Didn't Anne know anything?

"It's a double standard," Gilbert supported her.

Ruby made a face. Gilbert agreed with her?

Anne went on, ranting: "Of course if there's no baby then no one will know, and it won't matter. But if there _is_ a baby- if Billy's made me have a baby- then there'll be gossip about _me_ if I wear the wrong thing! …It's just so completely unfair for people to gossip about _me_ , when I know for a _fact_ that they _won't_ gossip about _him!_ "

Ruby's ears _had_ to be deceiving her. Had Anne just said what she thought she'd said?

"When _Billy_ gets married, nobody's going to tell _him_ he has to wear… _purple polka dots_ , or something," she sputtered. "Just because he's had relations already! … _He's_ the one who should have to wear different wedding clothes, _not me_!"

Anne felt quite a bit better after making this complaint.

Ruby almost dropped her lunch basket. Billy had had…. _relations_? She was talking about _intimate_ relations, wasn't she? She put her hand over her mouth. And did Anne _really_ just say that Billy had made her have a _baby_? Ruby's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Why is it only the _girl's_ purity that anyone cares about?" Anne said angrily.

"Don't know," Gilbert said. "I never thought about it before. But you're right. It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all."

"It is completely _unjust_. And I refuse to be part of such an _atrocity_ ," Anne decided.

Gilbert began talking then, telling Anne something affirmative and reassuring, but Ruby wasn't listening anymore.

There was too many thoughts racing through her mind.

How could Anne be having a baby _?_ She wasn't married! Didn't you have to be married? _Well she isn't married yet…maybe she will be soon…to Gilbert!_ she thought despondently.

And Ruby felt confused about the way Billy factored into all of this. Anne hadn't _actually_ meant she's engaged in intimate relations with _Billy_ , had she?!

She _couldn't_ have. After all, Billy hated her.

Unless, Ruby thought, unless it was all an _act_. Maybe Billy picked on Anne because he liked her. Maybe he'd just always been teasing her to get her attention.

Maybe Anne _knew_ that. Anne _did_ seem to be very worldly. She probably knew all kinds of things about boys and intimacy that other girls didn't know.

But when had Anne and Billy had intimate relations? And where? How did that happen?

Ruby didn't want to listen to any more. She began walking away.


	135. Josie Pye

Ruby was already upset when she rushed out of the woods, but she was sobbing by the time she made it to the Pye's house. Out of breath from running, she banged on the door and was relieved that Josie herself answered instead of her mother or father.

"Ruby, what's _wrong?!_ " Josie exclaimed, opening the door wide for her to rush in.

"Josie," she sobbed. "It's so awful!"

Josie held out her arms and Ruby stumbled into them. She couldn't say anything at first, she was crying too hard.

Finally she pulled away and said, "It's _Anne_. That horrible, awful Anne!"

Josie narrowed her eyes. "What did she do now?"

"She's taken Gilbert away from me _forever_!" Ruby wailed.

Josie said angrily. "Don't you worry, we'll make her stay away from him for good!"

"No," Ruby sputtered, shaking her head. "You don't understand. We're too _late_. I think they're planning their _wedding_!"

Josie made a face. "Be sensible, Ruby. They can't be getting married. They're 13 and 15, they're not even old enough to court yet."

"Well, I think they're going to have to rush things," Ruby said, "Because Anne is…"

She broke off, starting to cry all over again.

"Come up to my room," Josie said.

She dragged Ruby up the staircase.

She pushed Ruby into her room and shut the door.

"What do you mean they have to rush things?" Josie asked. "Is Anne so much of a burden to the Cuthberts' that they're trying to get rid of her already?"

Ruby shook her head. "I don't know. But they were talking about Anne's wedding, and- and- and Gilbert said he could already see her looking beautiful in her _wedding_ _dress!"_

Josie scrunched up her face in a sneer. "That doesn't sound right. Anyway, even if the Cuthberts' are trying to pass her off to someone else, I can't see Gilbert's father thinking Gilbert is old enough to get married."

Ruby sniffled. "Mr. Blythe isn't doing well. My mother said he might even _die_. Maybe he _wants_ Gilbert to get married while he's still around to see it. And if he _does_ die, then Gilbert will inherit the farm of course…he'll have his own farm and he'll be able to support a wife and child…" She broke off crying again.

"Ruby, Ruby," Josie said. "This all sounds _very_ far-fetched. Are you sure you heard right?"

"Yes!" Ruby exclaimed.

"I still don't see why they'd be getting married," Josie said, shaking her head. "Even if Mr. Blythe is all right with it, and even if the Cuthberts' can't wait to get rid of her, it just…it just doesn't make sense because it would mean Gilbert…ugh, Gilbert _can't_ like her _that_ much!"

"He was talking to her as if he _loved_ her," Ruby said, shaking.

"But when would they have even gotten to _know_ each other?" Josie asked. "I know Gilbert seemed really stuck on Anne for a little while, but he hasn't been paying attention to her lately. And anyway, it's Billy who Anne's always staring at….This just doesn't make _sense_ , Ruby."`

"That's because I haven't told you the worst part," Ruby wailed. "Why they _have_ to rush things!"

Josie got out a clean handkerchief from her dresser and handed it to Ruby. "All right, why do they have to rush things?"

"Because…because it sounded like Anne might be having a _baby_!" Ruby whispered.

Josie just stared at her.

"Well, say something!" Ruby cried.

Josie shook her head. "That horrid girl knows all kinds of nasty things," she began. "But for her to have a baby, Gilbert would have had to go _along_ with her devious plans."

"He didn't," Ruby said, hiccupping. "At least, I don't _think_ he did. Anne said _Billy_ was the one who…who was making her have a baby."

Josie's jaw could have hit the floor. " _What?!_ "

Ruby nodded, sniffling. "That's what she _said_. She was complaining about how things were unfair to women and how men and women weren't treated the same-"

Josie rolled her eyes.

Ruby continued, "And she said something about how she'd be the one gossiped about but nobody would care that Billy was in on it, too."

"What does she mean no one would care if Billy was in on it?! They sure would! _I_ care!" Josie snapped, furious.

Josie stood up. "This is too much. I always knew that girl was trouble, but this is _just_ too much. Throwing herself at every boy, having a baby with one and trying to pull the wool over the eyes of another? This is…" she broke off, disgusted. Then she took a deep breath and said, "Don't worry, Ruby. We'll make sure Gilbert gets out of this in time, okay? We won't let him make the biggest mistake of his life."

"You think we can stop him?" Ruby asked, wiping her cheeks.

"Yes. She's cooked up some scheme to make Gilbert feel sorry for her. Don't you get it? If Billy really did leave her in trouble and is refusing to marry her or something, then she probably thought she better nail down a situation fast. Maybe she's got her sights set on the Blythe's farm. She knows Gilbert's father isn't doing well and she thinks she can trick Gilbert into settling for her. Then she'll have his farmland and be all taken care of. She doesn't care that she's using Gilbert for her own gain."

"I didn't think of that," Ruby said, sniffling.

"Yes, Ruby. Gilbert is a victim in all of this. Don't be upset with him. We have to make sure he sees that Anne is trying to trap him."

Josie looked so angry she could spit.

"Josie," Ruby said, "I'm so sorry for the news about Billy."

Josie was thinking. "It might not even true, what she said."

"But if she isn't having a baby, then why…"

"Oh, I'm not saying she isn't having a baby. That revolting girl is probably always at risk for _that_. But that doesn't necessarily mean _Billy_ did it. She could have been trying to blame it on any boy around. I'll have to find out, though..."

Ruby shuddered. "What should we do?"

"I don't know yet," Josie said lowly. "But we're going to get to the bottom of this- and I'll start by giving Billy the confrontation of his life. Tomorrow can't come soon enough."


	136. Full of Light

On the way home from school- after their chat in her hideaway- and while Ruby was recounting every detail of their conversation to Josie- Gilbert had asked Anne about her morning walk alone. She told him proudly that she had done it. She did not mention that she'd arrived covered in sweat.

Gilbert was glad she felt accomplishment in walking alone, but her disheveled appearance when she stepped into the school building had not gone unnoticed by him, and so he offered to come meet her in the morning again, in case Diana was still sick.

She had started to tell him she'd be okay without him, but then faltered and said, "Oh, Gilbert, I'm not even going to pretend. It was _hard_ , and I'd be _exceedingly_ grateful if you wouldn't mind coming just in case Diana is out again…"

He said, "Of course I will! Really it's better this way, with _two_ of us walking with you now, you'll probably never have to be by yourself."

She sighed. "I just feel bad for you, I'm sorry- the first chance you get to have mornings to yourself again, and here I am to spoil it." She looked down.

"Anne," he said, looking at her incredulously. "I wasn't walking with you as a _chore_."

"I know, I know, you're being kind," she said. "And I appreciate how kind you're being, willing to get up earlier and-"

"I wasn't being kind, either," he interrupted. "I mean, sure, initially I offered to walk with you because I wanted to _help_. But…even the very first day, I didn't feel like I was doing an act of _kindness_. Walking with you has been…nice. _You're_ nice. You're…" he trailed off.

"What?" Anne asked, laughing.

"I always got up, took care of my dad, got ready and walked to school. That was normal. I never knew any other way mornings could be. …Yesterday was normal, but it was somehow all wrong."

Anne looked over at him.

He said quietly, "I got so used to you being there first thing in the morning. You're a nice way to begin each new day, Anne. I just…I just like being with you. That's all."

Anne smiled, looking down at the ground as she walked, her cheeks growing warm. "I like being with you, too," she said softly, and Gilbert tried not to show how full of light those six words made him.


	137. The Telephone Game

Josie was the first of their clique to arrive at school, except for Jane, but several other students were milling around talking. Prissy was sitting at Jane's desk, talking to Jane about the new dresses their mother had ordered in.

Billy was in the back of the room with one of his pals.

"See," he was saying. "If you write the formula right here, on the edge of your shoe, then during the test you'll be able to glance down at it and Mr. Phillips will be none the wiser."

Josie stormed up to Billy.

Billy said, "Hi, Josie."

Then he took another look at her. "What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with _me_? What's the matter with _you?!_ " She said angrily, trying to keep her voice down so that she wouldn't alert the attention of anyone else in the room.

Billy's pal laughed and said, "'I'm outa here," getting up and leaving Billy all alone to be faced with Josie's wrath.

Josie dragged Billy into the cloakroom.

"Anne seems to be planning a _wedding_. With Gilbert. Do _you_ know anything about that?"

That information shocked Billy, but he kept his face calm and tried not to show any reaction. "Why would I know anything about what she's doing?"

Condescendingly, Josie said, "Why don't you think about it for a minute. Think hard."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Josie looked disgusted. "Anne said that you were… _involved_ with her."

Billy looked like he was trying to figure out how to talk his way out of it, but finally just said, "Whatever she said to you, she's lying."

"You don't seem very surprised to hear about it," Josie snapped. "I think _you're_ lying. Why would she even say something like that?"

"Because she's a freak!" Billy said, "She's obsessed with it. She couldn't wait to tell the whole school everything she knows about it, and then accusing Prissy of nasty things?" Billy got angrier, his voice rising, "You shouldn't care what that dirty piece of trash does!"

"I _don't_ care what she does," Josie snapped, "except when it _ruins_ _lives_! She's trying to rope Gilbert into _marriage-_ she's _using_ him!- and she's absolutely _destroyed_ Ruby!"

"I had nothing to do with that!"

"Really? Are you _sure_? She said she was involved with _you_ first, and from the story she told, it sounded like _you're_ backing out on her, and _that's_ why she's sinking her claws into poor Gilbert now! Apparently she told him some _sob story_ and got him feeling _sorry_ for her."

"There's nothing for anyone to feel sorry for!" Billy said angrily. "No one should be feeling sorry for her! I _never_ attacked her. _She_ threw herself at _me_ , not the other way around! This was _her_ fault!"

Billy and Josie stared into each other's eyes with shock- both realizing that Billy, in his rising anger, had just admitted to having done _something_.

There was a long moment of dead silence.

Finally Josie sneered at him, looking thoroughly disgusted. She said, "Why would you _tarnish_ yourself with her, when there are much more beautiful girls you could have pursued? Were you just _that_ desperate to have intimate relations?"

Billy stared at her.

"You must have been extremely desperate to take the first girl to put out! And we _know_ that wicked girl puts out!"

Billy didn't know what to say.

Josie hissed, "But you know what? You're _just_ as revolting as she is, Billy Andrews. Defiling yourself at your age, and without being married! I can't believe I ever liked you. I'd _never_ want to court you, now, after knowing _where you've_ _been_!"

Billy's heart sank. He hadn't thought about what he'd done as being of any consequence when it came to him liking Josie.

But Josie wasn't finished with him yet. "How do you like the end result- was it _worth_ it?"

"What do you mean?" Billy asked, still almost too stunned for words.

"She's _expecting_." Josie hissed.

"…Expecting what?"

"What are you, slow or something? A _baby_ , that's _what_!"

Josie gave him one last look of disgust and then walked briskly to her desk.

Billy leaned against the wall of the cloak room, beginning to sweat even as the door opened and a crowd of students came bustling in, bringing the brisk wind with them.

 _This is bad. This is bad._

He tried to breath, trying to calm himself.

 _They can't pin this on me. She could've done that with anyone. Everyone knows she's full of knowledge about intimate relations. She's probably done everything there is to do, with boys in every town she's ever lived in._

 _No,_ he thought. _They can't pin this on me._

But he felt lightheaded as Mr. Phillips called class to order.

He was terribly aware of Anne walking to her desk and sitting down on the girl's side of the room, but he wouldn't look over at her.

He had tried to make Anne afraid of him. And it had worked.

But now he was the one who was afraid.


	138. Secrets and Lies

At lunch time, as everyone rushed to the cloak room, Billy pulled Jane aside and demanded, "Why did you tell _Josie_ of all people?"

"What?" Jane asked, having no idea what Billy was talking about.

"You shouldn't have told _anyone_!" Billy said.

"I didn't," Jane responded, surprised.

"Yes, you did!" Billy told her. "How would Josie know?"

Jane's eyes were wide. "I don't know. But I didn't say a thing."

Billy's eyes narrowed. "Then Fido's opened her dirty mouth."

"Billy, don't say anything to her!" Jane pleaded.

Billy glared at her. "She's got to keep her mouth shut, Jane!"

"Just leave it! _Please!_ Leave her alone!"

Jane didn't know if Billy would listen to her or not. Jane decided she'd have to be especially kind to Anne in case Billy was mean to her later.

Instead of eating with the other girls, Jane went to Anne and said, "Let's eat together, Anne. I was hoping we could talk, without all the others around."

Anne felt flattered that Jane wanted to be closer friends with _her_ , apart from just being one of the group.

She followed Jane into the cloak room.

Jane opened her lunch basket. "Maybe we can share our lunches. Want to trade half our sandwiches? I have ham and cheese."

"I have ham, too, though." Anne said. "But no cheese."

Jane gave her half her sandwich. "Now you have cheese."

Anne smiled. She held out half of her sandwich too. "Mine's on rye bread…do you like rye bread?"

"Mmm, I love it," Jane said, taking it from Anne. "Mine's wheat bread. This will be great."

Anne tried not to show how excited she was at feeling like she had a friend now.

On the other side of the room, Josie, Ruby, and Tillie were staring at them.

"She doesn't _look_ like she's having a baby," Tillie said. "She's so skinny."

"It can't show right away," Josie said, feeling important for having such juicy gossip to share.

"When _does_ it show?" Tillie asked.

"Well, I don't know about that part," Josie admitted. "But she's not going to be able to hide it forever. It'll start showing eventually."

Josie looked over at where Billy sat with his friends. She noticed Billy was staring at Anne. That made her furious.

Billy _was_ staring at Jane and Anne in the corner. _Maybe Jane is convincing Anne not to tell anyone else,_ he thought. He hoped so. Jane was nice; she could make Anne not tell but still be nice about it. Hopefully that would work.

"So how's everything going?" Jane asked Anne.

Anne stopped chewing. Her food sat in her cheek.

Finally she swallowed. "Fine."

Jane prodded, "I hope you're feeling better…you kept getting sick."

Anne didn't say anything.

Jane prodded: "I wonder why."

Anne looked down for a moment. Then she said, brightly, changing the subject, "I heard you're getting another new dress. You're so lucky to have so many pretty things to wear. Can I see it, when it comes in?"

"Of course," Jane said, nodding.

There was quiet and then Jane began, "Anne…um, my brother…"

"Maybe we should go back and eat with the other girls," Anne interrupted quickly. "I just don't want them to think we don't want to sit with them."

Jane stared at her for a long moment, then said quietly, "…ok."

"Shhh, here she comes," Tillie said quickly as Jane and Anne approached.

The two girls sat back down with them in the corner, each looking uncomfortable.

Jane wished she'd been able to keep Anne away from the others, since the first thing Josie said when she sat down was, "It's a good thing you have lots of child care experience, Anne."

Anne's breath caught in her throat.

 _No_ , she thought. _She doesn't know anything. She…she could be talking about anything_.

She said quickly, "You mean because I'm going to be babysitting?" she asked. "I haven't got it worked out with the Perkins, but I'll probably be doing lots of babysitting."

"Sure," Josie said, smiling. "As long as taking care of Mrs. Perkins baby doesn't interfere with taking care of your own."

Anne's eyes froze in terror.

"I'm glad you found a job, Anne," Tillie said in a meek voice. Unlike Josie, Tillie seemed as if she truly meant to sound helpful. "It'll help to have some money saved up, beforehand."

Anne struggled to breath.

"The part I don't understand," Josie said, her voice taking on a false innocence, "Is why you're thinking about wedding gowns- surely no one would have the inclination to work on a gown for a shotgun wedding."

"What's a shotgun wedding?" Tillie asked.

Josie was pleased to be able to share this bit of knowledge. "It's when people have to plan a wedding _fast_ because they've _already_ got a baby on the way and don't want the shame of it being born out of wedlock." She paused. "Of course it'll be shamed anyway, seeing as it's quite obvious that no thirteen year old girl would be getting married unless she'd gotten herself into _trouble_."

That did it. There was no mistaking it. They knew. And suddenly, a noise like a distressed kitten escaped from Anne's throat and tears sprang to her eyes. She ran from the room, crying heavily before she even reached the door.

Almost all of the students in the room had their attention diverted at Anne's noisy departure.

Billy looked from Anne to Josie. Josie smiled sweetly at him, dripping with insincerity.

Gilbert got up and went after Anne.

Outside, Anne was sobbing in the privy. Gilbert stood outside of it, not caring how it looked that he was hanging around a girl while she was in the bathroom.

Josie, Ruby, and Tillie all got up and followed them out. But Jane hung back, feeling sick and wanting to cry.

Josie stormed up to the privy and said, "Gilbert Blythe! She's got you under her spell, hasn't she?"

"What did you _do_?" Gilbert asked her, his eyes like stone.

Josie looked surprised. "What did _I_ do? I think the real question is what did _Anne_ do."

Josie turned to Ruby and said, "We'll get him to come to his senses."

Gilbert made a face. "Come to my senses?"

Ruby spoke up, timidly. "We didn't want you to be tricked."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Tricked into _what_?"

"...Anne," Tillie said. "She's making you feel sorry for her so she can trick you into marriage."

Gilbert had no idea what they were talking about. But he wasn't going to waste time figuring out their mess, his concern was Anne.

He could hear her sobbing inside the privy.

"Anne, come out," he said.

There was no response but crying.

"Look, would you go away?" Gilbert said to the three girls, irritated.

"Why, so she can come out here and tell you more lies? No, we're confronting her." Josie said firmly.

The three girls stood there, not moving.

Gilbert sighed. "Anne, _please_ come out."

"No!" came a response, amid sobs. "I don't want to see them. Everyone just go _away_ …"

"I'm not going away," Gilbert said. "Not until you come out. Don't worry about them, we'll walk right past them, they can't do anything to you."

The sobbing stopped for a moment, and Gilbert hoped she was coming out, but then it started up again.

He was so upset he could cry himself.

He sat down next to the door of the privy. He looked expectantly at the girls.

They were all crossing their arms.

A moment later Jane came out of the schoolhouse, walking briskly over to them. She hadn't known what to do when Anne first ran out, but seeing the girls through the window, she finally decided she'd have to come out there and see what's what.

After Jane left, Billy followed. He _had_ to try to keep Jane from admitting anything to the rest of them.

As Jane and Billy approached, Josie was saying, "Ruby and I haven't told anyone but Tillie, but you can bet we're going to! All the boys need to be _warned_ about her. That is, the boys she hasn't _already_ seduced!"

Anne cried harder.

Josie turned to Ruby. "Ruby, you don't want Gilbert anyway. If he's willing to be with her, even though she's probably been _had_ by every boy she's ever met, then he clearly has _terrible_ judgement. He doesn't even mind that she's carrying another boy's baby right now!"

Gilbert said, his face twisted, " _What?"_

Billy's face paled.

Josie said, "We all know about her love affair with Billy! And how she's _with child."_

"Wait a minute-" Billy said, starting to protest.

But Josie interrupted him.

Josie leaned toward the privy and called out to Anne, saying, "Does your family- oh excuse me, I forgot they're not your family, they're just people who took you in- but do _they_ know? I'm guessing they don't, or they would've turned you out by now. But don't worry, we'll make sure they know all about you, and quickly."

Anne was taking in every word Josie said from inside the privy, her face white and sick.

"They'll be _so_ disappointed in you, Anne," she said with false concern. "To find out you're a…a seductress. A _Jezebel_."

Anne, who'd been reading the Bible a lot lately, began to cry again; Jezebel was an evil woman.

"It serves them right, though," Josie continued. "You can't just take in strangers; you never know what sort of riff-raff you're inviting into your home."

Ruby began to cry. "Gilbert, you _can't_ marry Anne. She's just trying to sink her cows in-"

Josie rolled her eyes. " _Claws_ , Ruby, the word is _claws_. She's trying to sink her claws into Gilbert!"

"Oh," Ruby said, crying. "She's trying to sink her claws. She doesn't _love_ you. Not the way I- other people do!"

Gilbert looked at her, his face twisted in frustration and confusion at this whole mess.

"Why would you think Anne's having a baby? And why would you think we're getting married?"

"Because," Ruby said. "I heard you. You told Anne she was going to look beautiful in her _wedding_ gown! And Anne said she didn't know if she could wear white because of the _baby!"_

Gilbert felt shocked. Clearly Ruby had overheard their conversation the other day.

Billy looked just as shocked. He stared at Gilbert. "You're actually _marrying_ her?"

Gilbert made a face at him. " _That's_ what you're worried about here?"

Billy looked a bit dazed. "No. I just…"

Josie snapped at Billy, "You're a horrible person. No matter how disgusting that wretched girl is, you're still a coward! If you really made her have a baby, then man up!"

Billy sneered at her. "I told you, I didn't do anything!"

"Well, that's where the lie is," Gilbert snapped. "You know exactly what you did, Billy. Nothing else is true but that."

Billy shoved Gilbert in the chest. "So what if I did?" he said. "It's nothing she hasn't done before. She's not this innocent little angel she's made you think she is."

Gilbert shoved him back. "You're a monster!" he said through clenched teeth.

Billy gave a little laugh and said three words that Gilbert was ready to kill over: "She _liked_ it."

Gilbert let out a noise that was somewhere between a scream and a grunt, and punched Billy square in the face.

All the girls screamed.

The two boys wrestled on the ground. Fresh red blood blighted the crisp white snow.

Josie yelled, "Stop it!" Tillie was shaking. Ruby was crying. Jane was so upset; she didn't know whose side to be on- she hated what her brother had done, but he was still her brother, and she felt loyalty toward him.

Finally Billy had been hit enough that he backed up from Gilbert, ending this- surrendering.

Josie watched him get up and reached out to his bloody nose with her handkerchief. She said, leaning into him a bit, "Billy, maybe I judged you too harshly. You were wrong to fall for her, but I know Anne's wicked ways seduced you…maybe you should just let Gilbert be the one to step in after all. If he's willing to marry her, then you can be rid of the _whole_ mess."

Gilbert could still hear Anne crying inside the privy.

Josie looked at him. "All right, Gilbert? We'll just leave you to your own poor decisions. I hope you're going to be happy with what you've chosen. I just hope she doesn't step out on you, too." Josie lowered her voice and said, "I've _heard_ of women like her. They try to bewitch men right and left, committing _unspeakable_ acts- sometimes for _money_."

Gilbert knew it wasn't his place to tell Anne's story, but he was so angry, so _incensed_ , that he couldn't hold back his rage to the point that he _wanted_ to hit Josie too, and he began to spit words out at her like cannonballs being shot: "Anne's not that kind of girl- your _precious_ Billy attacked her! He forced himself on her! And if you blame _her_ for that, then you're worse than any Jezebel!"

"I did not! She's lying!" Billy exclaimed.

"No she's not!" Gilbert snapped at him.

Jane, who had been silent thus far, suddenly spoke up.

And what she said silenced everyone:

"She's not lying."


	139. The Only Two Left

"What do you mean she's not lying, of course she's lying!" Josie snapped, her hand laying on Billy's arm. "She did things she shouldn't have done, and now she wants to pretend that it wasn't _her_ _fault_. Isn't that right?"

Billy nodded, holding Josie's handkerchief over his bloody nose.

" _Anne,"_ Jane cried, dropping to her feet in front of the privy door. _"Oh, Anne, I'm so sorry!"_ She began to cry, her hands pressed against the privy door as if wishing she could hold Anne herself.

Just then the bell rang.

Everyone came out of a bit of a daze; all six people there had forgotten they were even at school in the first place.

Ruby and Tillie looked at each other, and with sort of a shrug, turned around, heading back to the schoolroom together at the beckoning of the bell.

"Come on," Josie said, dragging Billy away. Billy was still keeping the handkerchief over his nose. Billy thought his chances with Josie were over, but it seemed Josie _might_ be willing to forgive him- even if it was a reluctant forgiveness- because she seemed to believe that he had been led astray by Anne's wicked ways and he wasn't _completely_ at fault for how he'd been seduced by her.

Gilbert stared at Jane, leaning against the privy door, crying. He had mixed feelings- he felt upset that she knew what had been done and had never told her parents about it. But he also couldn't hate her because she, too, had been put in a bad position, and she clearly felt terrible. Finally he knelt down and put his hand on her shoulder, saying gently, "Jane, why don't you go on in? I'll help her."

Jane turned to him, her face streaked with tears.

"I'm sure she doesn't blame you," Gilbert said. "Everything will be all right."

They looked at each other a moment, and then Gilbert helped her up. She slowly made her way back to the school, wiping her eyes as she went.

Finally it was just the two of them. Gilbert could still hear Anne crying.

"If you won't come out, then can I come in?" He asked.

There was a brief pause, a whimper, and then a scraping sound that he knew was the wooden latch being lifted from the door.

He waited until she'd pushed open the door herself before he made any move to enter.

He was about to say, "Come on out, it can't possibly smell good in there." But he didn't. She was still crying too hard to say anything to her at all, so he just smushed himself into a space too tight for two people and sat down on the dirt floor with her. He was glad she was all right with him touching her now, because that was all he could do. He brought his arms around her. She was crying so hard he worried she wouldn't be able to breathe, but he kept his arms strong around her anyway, and she was glad, because the strength she felt in his arms could protect her from the world.

After several minutes, he looked down at her head, which was nestled against him. His flannel shirt was wet from her tears, but he felt her crying slowly dying down, until at last, he only felt his chest shake with her hiccups.

"I don't want to t-talk," she forced out, unsteady.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said softly, only holding her tighter.

 _There is, actually,_ he thought. _But not to each other._

And so he began praying.


	140. Excuse to Leave

As class resumed, Mr. Phillips looked around the room and said, "We seem to be missing people- where is Gilbert?"

Then he noticed Anne missing as well.

Josie raised her hand. "They're in the privy," she said. " _Together_."

"What?" Mr. Phillips asked, walking over to the window and peering out of it.

"Anne is sick," Jane was quick to say. "Gilbert just went to check on her, that's all."

She looked over at her brother, feeling hurt. His nose had stopped bleeding, and she wondered if it would begin to bruise.

"Well, someone go out and tell them to come back in here," he ordered. "This instant."

No one volunteered.

"I'll go," Moody said. He had not been involved in any of it and so had no idea that it was anything beyond Anne being sick.

He went outside and found Gilbert and Anne crammed in the privy.

"Anne, I'm sorry to hear you're feeling sick," he said, "But Mr. Phillips says you two have to come back in now."

Anne was not looking at him. Gilbert said, "Okay…thanks Moody."

Moody nodded at him and headed back to the building.

Gilbert squeezed Anne to him once more, and then pulled her away from him, looking at her face. He wiped her hair out of her eyes, letting his palm rest against her cheek. He'd never touched her face and wouldn't assume he had any right to, but at the moment it seemed to be a kindness rather than an imposition.

She closed her eyes as his palm brushed her cheek, holding onto every bit of strength he was pouring into her. Then she took a deep breath and began to stand up.

He stood up, too, and put one arm behind her as they walked.

"Moody said he was sorry you're sick," Gilbert said. "So someone must have said we were in the privy because you'd gotten sick again."

She just breathed.

"That's a good thing," he decided. "Because if Mr. Phillips thinks you're sick, you'll be able to go home."

They stepped into the school room.

Mr. Phillips looked at Anne with disdain. She looked even worse, he thought, than she usually did. Her face, always pale, was whiter than a sheet, and her eyes, too large, were puffy and swollen looking.

"It seems you're ill," he said, " _Again_."

She nodded, looking at the floor.

"Go get your things," he said rather curtly, and began writing something at his desk.

"I'll walk her home," Gilbert said quickly.

"Surely one of the girls ought to accompany her," Mr. Phillips said.

All the girls suddenly became very interested in looking down at their books.

Gilbert shook his head. " _I_ should," he said, sounding firm. "She's…she's sick enough that she might collapse, Mr. Phillips, and if a girl takes her they'll have to leave her alone and walk all the way back to school to get help. She needs someone strong enough to help her along if she gets too weak to walk."

"Very well," Mr. Phillips said, not looking up from his writing.

Gilbert stared at him a moment, then walked to the cloakroom to get his own things.

When he came back, Anne was with him, and Mr. Phillips handed Anne what he had been writing. "Give that to a parent when you get home."

Anne just nodded, still not looking at him.

Gilbert started to turn toward the door, with Anne at his side, when Mr. Phillips said, "And Gilbert?"

"Yes?" Gilbert asked.

"Don't follow a girl into the privy. Even if she is sick. You ought to have asked another girl to check on her. …It doesn't look well for you."

Gilbert's jaw changed. Then he said- with a hard look at Mr. Phillips- "You're right, sir. School is a terrible place to show impropriety."


	141. Hiding or Healing

People taking the time to stop and leave a review- thank you SO MUCH. It is amazing to log in and see that someone actually wants to read what I'm writing…I always feel special when I see that someone left me a comment!

Hi to Cats and Violin, I can't send you a message since you're a guest but just wanted to say you are so, so sweet and thank you for reading my story and the support you've shown me ***hug Cats and Violin***

Every time I upload a chapter, it's terrifying. I know I've got over a hundred but with the exception of the Christmas chapter and the The Blythes at Home- those were just fun- other than that, every single chapter I post feels TERRIFYING. Just digging into stuff that is difficult for me to think/write about- combined with my doubt about whether my writing is any good- it's scary. I think you're SO nice for leaving such nice comments... Seriously it does not go unappreciated.

* * *

After they left school, Anne seemed to be in a fog.

She gripped the note from Mr. Phillips tightly in her hand.

"It's Friday, at least," Gilbert said, looking at her. "Couple of days at home might be good. No school."

Gilbert did not like when she was quiet.

When Anne talked, it reminded him of the phrase " _showers of blessing_ ". She kept a fountain as a pet, filling it with her words, and Gilbert would sit by that fountain every day if he could, tossing pennies into it and making wishes. But when she grew quiet, it was like a gale was brewing inside her; he could see the storm clouds behind her eyes. He wished she'd start talking…about _anything_.

Finally he asked, "Are you going to look at that note?"

"It's for Marilla," she said distractedly, sounding as if the note didn't have anything to do with her.

He nodded. "That's true."

He hoped Mr. Phillips's note didn't say anything about her being in the privy with a boy. But he wasn't going to push her to read it if she didn't want to. Anyway, she was doing the right thing, technically- the note was for a parent, she wasn't _meant_ to look at it. …But Gilbert wished she would; the more information they had, the better prepared they could be.

When they reached Anne's property, Gilbert said, "Why don't I come in with you?"

"You can't," Anne said flatly.

"She's going to wonder why you came home at lunchtime," Gilbert pointed out. "Can't I just be a random classmate who walked you home?"

Anne briefly considered that. Then she said, "No. If you come in, you might start talking."

This made Gilbert sad.

Then he said, "Anne, it kills me to push you because I _really_ don't want to-"

"Then don't," Anne interrupted.

"I know, but you don't have time anymore. School will be over at three o'clock today and too many people know, someone's going to go home and start talking. This is coming out."

She bit her lip.

Gilbert pleaded, "Let me come _with_ you. I'll do it _all_ for you, you don't have to do _anything_. _Please_ , Anne."

"No," she said. "I'm going to tell them myself. I'll get it done…sometime. I doubt they'll go into town at all this weekend. …I just need a day to think. Before school on Monday…wait, no, there's church, and _that's_ in town," she realized. "Ok. Before church on Sunday, they'll know."

She nodded her head firmly as if to settle it in her mind.

He nodded. "Good," he said, but he wished he had more confidence in her plan.

Anne looked down at the note she was holding, the one from Mr. Phillips.

She decided she would read it after all. She opened it.

 _Mr. and Miss Cuthbert,_

 _Your child has come to school sick far too many times. I am requesting that you keep her home temporarily. It shows a lack of respect for my role as an educator when parents send children to me who are obviously ill, as I am then exposed to their illnesses and the excellent quality of my teaching is affected. I cannot be expected to teach a student who comes to school unable and unprepared to learn._

 _Please ensure that you do not send her back to me until you are confident she is well enough to attend without disrupting my teaching._

 _Mr. Phillips_

She handed the note to Gilbert. He quickly read it.

He made a face. "He wrote a note about you being sick, but it's not even _about_ you. …It's all about _him_."

He gave it back to her. "Oh well," he said. "At least now you can't go to school. It's probably for the best. It's not doing us any good to be there, anyway. Maybe we should drop out. We'll run away to a foreign country and operate a banana plantation."

Anne finally smiled, just a little bit.

"Can I have a hug?" He asked.

She nodded.

He hugged her and didn't let go.

And she didn't want him to. When he finally did let go, he assumed they'd be saying goodbye, but Anne didn't make any move to leave. Instead she commented, "It isn't as cold out as it was before, really. …I think you were right about spring coming early this year."

"It's been pretty mild, hasn't it? We only had a few really cold days." He agreed. He didn't know if she was wanting him to stay there and talk, or what, so he just waited.

She finally said, quietly, "I wish I could've gotten myself all sorted out _before_ I tell anyone."

"You mean…the baby?" he asked, his brow creased.

She shook her head, "No, I mean _me_." She gave a hollow laugh. "I'm a _mess_!" …But the end of that laugh brought exasperated tears to her eyes.

"Anne, you're not a mess-"

"I _am_ a mess, because I can't snap out of this, perk up, _something_! I can't seem to make any headway in feeling better!" She shook her head. "And now I'll have to _tell_ them, even though I'm still…"

"Still…?" He asked.

"Broken," she whispered.

Gilbert's eyes showed her how much that had hit him.

Anne explained, "I didn't think I'd have to tell them while I still felt so _broken_. I thought I could _fix_ myself, you know? Make myself all better and _then_ I'd tell them."

He let a breath out slowly, praying that his words would be taken in the manner they were intended, and would not harm.

"I don't think you can be fixed until you stop hiding." He paused, then said carefully, "You haven't had a chance to _feel_ anything."

Anne's voice took on a hard edge. "I feel _everything_. All the time. Trust me. I never _stop_ feeling."

"I know, but…right now you have to use up all your energy pretending nothing is wrong…trying to act normal…you can't even walk out of your bedroom door without putting a mask on. Aren't you _tired_?"

Anne looked at him.

"How can you have _any_ energy to work on _healing_ from this, when you have to use _all_ your energy to _hide_ it? You never have a chance to just be how you feel."

It was true, she realized _. It takes everything I have just to get through the day pretending. …There's nothing_ _ **left**_ _after that._

Anne didn't say anything to him. For a moment Gilbert thought she was angry. But then she put her arms around him. Surprised, he reciprocated.

As Anne pulled away, he saw tears coming down her cheeks. But she wasn't sad. Her eyes had a sudden light in them.

"I thought it was _never_ going to get better, Gilbert. I kept thinking, why can't I _fix_ this? What's wrong with me that I can't _fix_ this? But that's why. It's not that I don't have it _in_ me to get better...I _do_ have it in me! It's just that I've been using all my energy on the wrong things!"

Gilbert silently thanked God that his message had been received.

He smiled at her.

He hoped that what he thought was true. He had no experience in this issue. He had never even heard of this happening to anyone before. It was simply what seemed sensible and logical in his own mind: no one had infinite amounts of energy, and what you used in one area, you took away from another.

Anne wiped at the tears that had come to her eyes when she embraced him. There was a physical release; she felt lighter.

"I'm not gonna be broken," she decided. "I'll stop hiding. I'll put my energy where it ought to be, and I'll start getting better."

She was still depressed, of course, but _not without hope._

He wanted to tell her so many things- but now was not the time.

The only thing that was right for him to do now was to hold her hand and look into her eyes and tell her how brave he thought she was.

And so he did.

Then, his head tilted, he said, "You're gonna be ok. You know how I know?"

Anne thought he was going to explain some logical reason why she would be able to move past this and focus- he always seemed to have all the answers, sensible and forthright. But before she even finished the thought, he reached out and touched her cheek, saying only three simple words-

"Because you're _incredible_."

Anne saw, in that moment, herself- through his eyes.

"Nothing is impossible for you, is it?" He asked, smiling.


	142. Sugar

When Anne slipped quietly into the house, she didn't see Marilla or Matthew anywhere. She didn't really look, though, she just went straight upstairs to her bedroom.

She didn't even notice she'd gone up with her coat and hat still on. When she realized, she didn't want to go back down and so she just left them on her chair. She dropped everything on the floor- even her lunch basket, which was still full, and laid down on her bed.

Everything was awful.

She really _did_ feel better about what Gilbert had said: she thought it sounded _true_ \- if you don't use energy on hiding anymore, then you'll have the energy you need to start healing- but as much hope as that gave her, it didn't mean it was going to be easy for her to get over that hurdle of _saying_ what happened.

She pushed the note from Mr. Phillips underneath her mattress.

Then she decided that as long as everyone thought she was sick, she might as well _be_ sick. She put her nightgown on and brushed her hair and got into bed. In just a moment, she was asleep.

A couple of hours later, Marilla walked into Anne's room to gather her bedsheets up for the wash, when she saw with a start that Anne was asleep in bed.

She looked at her things around her room. She realized Anne must have come home sick again, but wondered why Anne hadn't looked for her to tell her she was home. She'd only been down in the cellar. Perhaps Anne really was just _that_ tired. She gathered up Anne's things to take downstairs and put away.

Once downstairs, she hung up Anne's coat and hat, and took her lunch basket into the kitchen to empty.

Marilla being in her room had woken her. Anne slowly got up out of bed and put her feet into her brown slippers with their periwinkle embrioidery. She padded down the steps, her feet making no noise at all with the softness of her new warm slippers.

Marilla turned around and was startled to see Anne standing behind her.

"Oh, Anne!" she said, breathing out.

Anne came over to her.

Marilla said, "Sent home sick today? What's wrong, is it your throat?" She reached out and felt Anne's forehead, but there was no fever.

Anne shook her head. She said, in a voice so quiet it was almost not her own- "Marilla, I need to talk to you about something."

Marilla's face changed… Anne's face had changed.

Marilla sat down at the table without a word.

Anne bit her lip, wringing her hands nervously. It felt like the other day- the day she'd confessed about her wrist- all over again.

Anne took a shuddery breath. "Um…the day I told you about my wrist?"

"Yes?" Marilla nodded, looking deep into Anne's eyes.

"Um. That wasn't…that wasn't _everything_."

Marilla wanted to press her, but stayed quiet.

"Well…I got hurt. But…it's been…it's been so long ago that it happened that it got harder and harder to bring it up."

Marilla nodded slowly.

Anne looked up at her. With a shaky breath, tears came into her eyes all over again.

"I didn't want you to be _angry_ with me. Because I didn't _mean_ for it to…it's my fault, I know, but…"

Marilla didn't know what to do. Should she press her, or should she stay quiet?

Anne looked around the room, looking anywhere but at Marilla.

"…Please don't be angry."

Marilla found herself slowly shaking her head.

They sat in silence for a long minute.

"I'm scared," Anne said, her voice hitching as she tried not to cry.

"Anne," Marilla said, "If something bad has happened, I _want_ you to tell me. You needn't be scared- you're doing the right thing now."

Anne nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears.

But it was several seconds before she made any move to speak again.

"I…"

Marilla nodded.

"I…"

Anne was frustrated. With herself, with the situation…she shook her head.

"I can't." She said. "I'm too tired. I want to go back to bed. I'll tell you tomorrow."

Marilla's face dropped. She now realized Anne was not sick at all. It was a ruse, designed to avoid whatever it was that was burdening her so.

Matthew came in and went to the pump to wash his hands.

Marilla looked over at him.

Suddenly she said, "Oh, dear. I planned to bake a cake for the Perkins this afternoon and I didn't realize I was out of white sugar."

Matthew said, "Can't you use brown?"

Marilla shook her head. "They're not the same thing. The recipe calls for white. Matthew, would you go into town and get it for me?"

Matthew looked confused.

"Now?" he said.

"Yes, _now_."

"We're going into town Sunday for church," he thought of.

Marilla shook her head. "The shops aren't open Sundays, Matthew," as if he should have thought of that. "I need it today. Would you?"

"Well…all right."

Marilla said, "Anne, run up and get dressed. You know Matthew doesn't like all the chit-chat that comes along with going into town; you can be there to talk for him. Go on up and get ready."

Anne looked sick. "I don't want to go," she said, wanting only to go back to bed so she could escape every unpleasant thought.

"Well, he needs your help," Marilla said firmly. "So get dressed and go. It won't take but a minute."

Anne reluctantly got up and went up the stairs.

Matthew looked at Marilla, confused.

Marilla stood up and got close to him, saying in a low voice- urgently- "Matthew, she was trying to tell me something. I know in my heart it was something desperately important. But she stopped. I want you to take her with you, and drive _slow_. I really believe she'll open up to _you_ if you let her."

Matthew nodded, his eyes showing he understood this was no trip to get sugar. He went outside and brought the buggy around.


	143. Buggy

Anne climbed into the buggy with Matthew.

Anne realized Matthew had never asked why she was home so early and why had been in her nightgown.

"I'm glad you're home early," was all he said.

Anne gave a small smile.

"I miss you, when you're at school," he told her.

Anne smiled bigger.

But then she thought-

 _Maybe soon you won't have to miss me. I might not be able to go back to school._

Matthew started the buggy and they were quiet for a moment. Anne wondered why he wasn't having them drive faster.

"You know," Matthew said- feeling it was very strange for Anne to be quiet and for _him_ to be the one pushing conversation- "Things are a lot different with you here, with us."

"Things are different for me, too," Anne said.

He nodded. "There's something rather nice about having a child in the house," he commented quietly.

"Matthew," Anne said. "I was wondering what you would think about me not going back to school."

"What do you mean?" he asked her.

"Well, if…if I couldn't go anymore. Whether you'd be disappointed in me."

Matthew knew something was wrong, just as Marilla had. In any other case he'd have asked why she thought she wasn't going to school and impressed upon her the importance of going.

But not now.

He had no idea what she was bothered by, and he was going to do exactly as Marilla had said and let her bring out whatever it was she had to bring out.

"Well, now," he said, "If you didn't go back to school, I suppose it would be nice to have you home more."

Anne breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good."

She was quiet a minute, then said, "Matthew, when you said it was nice to have a child in the house, did you…did you ever think what it might be like to have a baby?"

Matthew felt confused as to where this was going, but stayed with his plan of going along with whatever she said.

"Babies are nice," he said.

Anne nodded slowly. "Um…we're going to see the Perkins' baby."

He nodded. "Marilla mentioned you wanted to do some babysitting."

She slowly shook her head. "I really don't _want_ to," she told him.

"Oh?"

"I only said that because…I wanted to know how much it cost to have a babysitter."

He nodded, feeling more confused than ever.

"If…if someone had a baby and they needed to pay somebody to watch it for them."

He nodded again. "Well, I don't rightly know," he said. "But I'm sure we can find out."

Anne nodded.

They were quiet for a few minutes.

Matthew was unsettled by Anne being so quiet. But he wasn't sure what to ask to invite her to open up.

"I'm not really a fan of babies," she finally said. "But if one _has_ a baby, then they must either be happy with it or at least _imagine_ they're happy with it."

Matthew thought he might know what it was that was upsetting her. "I'm sure your parents were happy with you," he told her kindly. "They wouldn't have left you if they'd had any choice in the matter."

Anne felt confused until she realized Matthew had taken her comments about being happy with a baby, and gone down the wrong thought pathway.

"People get sick and pass on, but that doesn't stop the love they have," he told her, looking ahead at the road. "A parent's love is always with their child, even after they've moved on to the next life…"

Anne nodded slowly.

Matthew was quiet a moment and then said, "I always wonder if those in heaven are able to look down and see us."

Anne, momentarily distracted from her current problem, thought about this. "You think so?"

"Maybe they can hear us, even."

He looked over at her lovingly. "I hope it's true, anyway- I'd like to think that your parents still get to have the joy of seeing what a wonderful little girl you grew up to be, even if they can't be here with you."

Even though this conversation was not at all what Anne expected it to be, his comment made tears spring to her eyes. No one had ever said anything like that to her.

He went on, "And I'm mighty appreciative of them, having you. Or else I wouldn't get to have my little girl."

Anne forgot all her troubles and scooted closer to Matthew, hugging his arm. No matter what happened, he loved her. And for now, that was all she needed.


	144. Flight

After leaving Anne- and wishing he could go with her- Gilbert turned back. He decided to go back to school.

He thought about just going home. Gilbert put a lot of importance on being in school, but he had thoroughly _had it_ with Mr. Phillips, and with it being Friday, if Mr. Phillips would be angry he hadn't come back, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it until Monday anyway. But then he figured he may as well go back and finish the afternoon.

At least if something was said about Anne he'd be there to step in.

Mr. Phillips looked him up and down with just a hint of a sneer when he stepped through the door of the school, saying: "You certainly took your time in walking back."

Gilbert walked down the aisle. Then, seeing Mr. Phillips was waiting for some kind of explanation, he told a lie: "I had to help her _in_. And speak to her mother. I was being _polite_."

"She doesn't have a mother," Josie said. "You mean the generous lady who was willing to let her stay with them."

"No," Gilbert said in a hard voice, "I mean her _mother_." He knew Anne didn't _call_ Marilla 'mother', but he hated Josie's snide way of downplaying Anne's lack of a family, as if it had somehow been a personal fault of hers that her parents had died.

Mr. Phillips looked back and forth between the two of them, not knowing what the issue was.

"Well, sit down," he snapped at Gilbert.

Gilbert sat down at his desk, still giving Josie a hard stare.

The afternoon went on, passing uneventfully, but the end of the day could not come soon enough- both for the heavily burdened _and_ for those who couldn't wait to get home and share gossip.

Gilbert did not jump out of his seat right away like many others did when the school day was over. He was going to stay until he had finished what he was working on: He needed to make a second copy of the notes he'd taken on the lecture that afternoon, to bring to Anne, so she'd be ready for the test next week…until he remembered that according to Mr. Phillips note, Anne wasn't welcome back at school just yet.

He stopped a moment, but then shook his head- he would continue writing notes for her anyway. Even if Anne wasn't going to be taking a _test_ on the War of 1812, there was no reason she shouldn't still _learn_ about the War of 1812.

He remembered, then, that he had promised to look into the matriculation system for her; to see whether it would be possible for her to take graduation exams even if she could not stay enrolled in school in the following years.

Suspecting Mr. Phillips would be of no assistance, he decided to seek that knowledge directly from the school board, by way of a certified letter. He would not reveal that he was asking in regard to an unwed mother, of course- there was no need for that sort of detail yet. He would just inquire as to whether matriculation was possible despite no official school enrollment, and if so, what were the requirements to pursue it?

He'd go into town later today or tomorrow and get that taken care of. Then at least he'd be able to give some sort of positive news to Anne, _if_ it turned out that her temporary break from school was destined to become a permanent one.

As he packed up his things to go, he heard a small, timid voice say, "Gilbert?"

Gilbert knew recognized the voice as Ruby's. He turned back to her, warily.

"I wondered if…if you were going to invite us to the wedding. Maybe…um, us girls could be _in_ the wedding. You know, bridesmaids?"

"Now why would you want to do a thing like that?" he asked, trying very hard not to sound as harsh as he felt.

Ruby looked innocently at him, and said simply, with no trace at all of any unkindness: "Because Anne wants a fancy wedding."

He didn't say anything to her. She gulped and then continued humbly, "So bridesmaids, and…and, see, I have these little white wicker baskets? And they have hearts on the handles…they used to belong to my dolls…but they're little, and…"

"Ruby, we're _not_ …" But then he shook his head as if giving up. "Okay. What about the baskets?"

"Well, we could put _roses_ in them," she said slowly, sniffling. "My mother has pink rose bushes in our garden, I bet she'd let us clip some. We…we could put the roses in the baskets to carry while we walk down the aisle." She stared at him a second. Then said, "Or, if Anne doesn't like that idea, maybe we could just sprinkle the petals on the aisle before she walks down it. She'd like _that_. …Anne _really_ , _really_ likes pink roses..."

Gilbert softened a little. Ruby was... _silly_ , he thought. But he didn't think she had bad intentions _. If Josie weren't around to pull the strings,_ he decided, _Ruby would be an okay kid._

Anyway, he knew how much Ruby swooned over him, so the fact that she seemed willing to _**let**_ him "marry" Anne, for lack of a better term, made him give in.

"I'll let her know about your idea," he said, giving her a small smile- a warm expression that let her know he wasn't angry with her.

Ruby nodded goodbye at him, sniffling, and then went to get her things.

Gilbert looked over at Josie, who was standing with Billy in the corner of the room, having a heated discussion in low tones.

Jane was looking back and forth at them, biting her lip and looking sick. Prissy was standing next to Jane, and Gilbert heard Prissy say, "What's going on?" but Jane just shook her head, refusing to answer Prissy's question.

Gilbert caught Jane's eye, but he did not try to talk to her. She was battling her own demons, and he didn't feel he had any right to intrude on her decision-making. The time for that was past, anyway- Jane would have to choose for herself whether she would inform their parents of what she knew, or whether she would just allow them to find out naturally on their own. On Gilbert's side of things, it didn't really matter which path she chose- his end result would be the same regardless.

He packed up his things and began to leave.

Once Gilbert got home, he began to write his letter to the school board. Then he asked his father if he'd be all right for a short time. "I won't be long," Gilbert promised. If he hurried, he could make it to the post office before it closed for the day.

If Gilbert had gone into the store, he would have run into Anne and Matthew. Anne and Matthew took a _long_ time in the store, as Matthew was having a forced reunion with several people, reminding him of why he did not like to go into town at all. But at least Anne was there to fill in the gaps where Matthew didn't like to chat.

Gilbert did, however, run into someone in the post office. He waited behind Mrs. Pye while she bought stamps, and then he stepped to the counter to send his own letter.

"I want the letter certified, please," he asked, getting out the extra money to do that.

As he paid, Mrs. Andrews came into the post office. He didn't notice her until he heard Mrs. Pye's voice behind him:

"It's providential I've run into you," she said to Mrs. Andrews. "I was about to head by your house on my way home, and I would have missed you since you'd gone into town. I've got something I _must_ tell you."

Gilbert froze. He didn't turn around, he just listened. Mrs. Pye had pulled Mrs. Andrews off into the corner, and he could not hear what they were saying, but after a moment he heard an audible gasp from Mrs. Andrews.

After Gilbert signed for the certification, he stepped away, and keeping his back to the two ladies, he pretended to look at the display of post cards.

"No!" Mrs. Andrews said, her voice shaking.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but someone had to. That's what my Josie came home and told me. She said _all_ the children know, that girl has told everyone. I was just getting a sheet of stamps and then I was coming over…I'd hoped to break the news to you in a more private setting, but when I saw you here I thought it best to get it over with straight away."

"But why on earth would she _say_ such a thing?"

"She seems to have some personal vendetta against your family, for whatever reason. First what she said about your daughter, and now this… It's a shame, and I cannot see why we must put up with it. I intend to write to the school board and ask them to make other arrangements for her, it is entirely _unsuitable_ for a girl like _that_ to be in the classroom with our children. Heaven knows what else they're being exposed to through her."

Gilbert's heart raced, but he was about to panic:

"Well, there's nothing else to be done. I'll go home and speak to my husband. We'll drive over to Green Gables and tell the Cuthberts' that they must control that child. I wonder if _they_ know? If not, they're going to learn some bad news."

Gilbert backed away slowly toward the door.

"Wait- you need your receipt for the certified letter!" The postmaster called out, but Gilbert didn't stop. As soon as he was at the door, he ran.

In a moment, he was headed for Green Gables. They were out of time.


	145. Let All That You Do Be Done In Love

Gilbert stopped the buggy and jumped out.

Then, after a second thought, he got back in the buggy and parked it behind the barn. Hopefully no one would see- if the Andrews arrived, he thought it was best if they didn't know someone had come to "warn" the Cuthberts.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Marilla answered and looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

He asked, "Is Anne here?"

Marilla looked surprised that a boy would be here for Anne.

 _Anne is much too young for a boy to come calling,_ she thought _, even if it is a good boy like John Blythe's son._

"No, she's not," she said rather questioningly, wanting to ask why he was here. "Matthew took her in to town. They're still gone."

"She's in town right _now_?" He asked. He hadn't seen her.

Marilla nodded. "I can let her know you stopped by…?"

Gilbert looked off to the side, thinking. Should he go back into town and try to find her? He could let her know that the Andrews were…no, if Mrs. Andrews was on her way home from town now, it might be only a few minutes before she relayed the information to her husband and they'd be on their way to Green Gables.

The prospect of Mr. Cuthbert arriving home with Anne at the very same moment the Andrews pulled up to Green Gables to confront them, was unthinkable. There would be no warning at all, no time for Anne to explain- she'd be standing there, in the middle of a group of at least four angry adults. He shook his head at the very thought. No, this had to happen _now_.

He looked back at Marilla and asked, "Miss Cuthbert, could I come in and talk to you for a minute?"

Marilla looked surprised. After a moment, she opened the door to him.

Gilbert stood there in the entryway, holding his hat in his hands, nervously. He didn't say anything.

Marilla noticed how worried he looked.

She said, "Come into the kitchen and sit down."

He followed her in.

Marilla stood there looking at him expectantly for a moment.

Then, seeing that whatever it was, it wasn't going to come out _easily_ , she said: "I've just put some tea on; let me see if it's ready."

She turned away from him.

Gilbert sat down, the chair noisily scraping the floor as he pulled it out from the table.

A moment later Marilla set a teacup down in front of him. She sat down, too, and faced him, her cup between her hands. "Now, what do you want to speak to me about?"

Gilbert took a deep breath. It was now or never. _Please don't hate me, Anne. I wouldn't do this to you, if there was any other way._

"The first day I met Anne, on the way to school…I happened to come upon her and…uh, a boy…in the woods..." Gilbert did not know how to say _any_ of this. He finished, uncomfortably: "Together."

As soon as he said it, he knew it hadn't come out right, but he felt woefully unprepared, not having had any plan for how to say it and not really even knowing how to describe what had happened in the first place.

Marilla raised her eyebrows- her first thought being consensual impropriety.

She looked up at the ceiling as if looking to God for guidance. "I realize that Anne had been _exposed_ to things at an early age, but I didn't think she'd had any _personal_ involvement in immoral deeds." She looked absolutely heartbroken. "…I must admit I'm dismayed to hear this. It's not the sort of girl we want her to be…"

Gilbert shook his head, "No, Miss Cuthbert, it wasn't like that. _She_ wasn't meeting him, she was just walking to school. _He's_ the one who was planning to…" Gilbert stopped and started over. "He was waiting in the woods for her; he _knew_ she'd have to pass through on her way to school and…"

Marilla had a very brief moment where she felt relief that Anne wasn't engaging in impurity. "So Anne wasn't-"

Gilbert shook his head. "No, she _wasn't_. He…attacked her. She didn't have a chance to get away or to help herself."

Marilla's moment of relief was gone as quickly as it had come. She stared at him. "Are you saying…"

Gilbert didn't know the right vocabulary for what had happened to Anne. He hoped Marilla would understand his meaning.

Gilbert took a deep breath. "He violated her, Miss Cuthbert."

Marilla's face was white as a sheet. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. "Who is this boy?"

"Billy Andrews."

The name felt like a weight being dropped.

Realization formed in Marilla's eyes. "Her wrist…my God…"

There was a second of silence before Gilbert rushed on, emotion showing in his face: "I came upon them but I was too late to stop it. It was over before I got there…I wish I'd been able to do more."

Gilbert looked despondent, looking down into his teacup, and repeated: "I wish I'd been able to do more."

He took a deep breath, looking up at Marilla's ashen face. "Anne has refused to speak about it to anyone, and I hate to go against her wishes. But I finally decided that you _must_ know…to defend her. You see, others _know_ , now. Some of the girls at school, and…the Andrews know, too, but they believe Anne is telling lies. They'll _blame_ Anne; they don't understand what really happened. I overheard Mrs. Andrews say that she was going home to get her husband and they were coming over here to confront you. I had to _warn_ you they're coming…I couldn't let them _ambush_ you. If Anne had been here right now I would have pressed her to tell you herself, but she isn't, and I'm afraid that time is of the essence…I don't know how quickly they'll get here but it was urgent that you understand the _truth_ before they come here and try to sell you on lies."

Marilla's hands were shaking around her teacup, she slowly breathed out. This was a lot to take in.

Gilbert looked at her, pleading in his eyes, silently begging her not to be angry with him for keeping this from her, begging her to understand that his only desire was to protect Anne.

"I've been doing my best to look out for her. I've been meeting her on the way so I can walk with her to school and back to make sure she's not left vulnerable. And I've been keeping a close eye on her in school, too, so that Billy can't upset her during the day. But…"

"But?"

"But she needs more." Gilbert finished, staring down at the teacup in his hands. "I don't know what, but she needs more."

Just then they heard the front door creak as it swung on its hinges.

Anne's voice, sounding a lot more relaxed now, called out: "Marilla, we're home! Matthew dropped me off, he's gone over to Jerry's house to give his mother a message about when they'd start up work again, but he said he'll be back before dinner. Look what Matthew bought for me at the store-" Anne talked noisily until she entered the kitchen- then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Gilbert sitting at the table across from Marilla.

Anne looked back and forth from Gilbert to Marilla.

Gilbert's eyes already looked sorry.

Marilla said gently, "Anne, come here," and she held out her arms to Anne in perhaps the most loving and motherly gesture Anne had ever been given in her whole life.

But Anne didn't even notice. She was staring at Gilbert.

"I _trusted_ you," she said, tears springing to her eyes.

She turned and ran from the house; the swirly orange and green sucker Matthew had bought for her falling to the floor and cracking into pieces.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving a gust of cold wind in her wake.


	146. Bridge

"She ran off…" Gilbert said, standing up from the table, looking after her. "She must be so hurt… I would go after her, but…"

He looked at Marilla, as if to say _You're the captain of the ship now, I won't do anything else without your approval._

Marilla said to him, "No, no. It's time for me and Anne to have a talk. _High_ time."

Gilbert nodded slowly, walking to the door. He stepped off the porch to go.

But then he turned and looked back up at her.

"I'm _sorry_. I _should_ have just come to you and Mr. Cuthbert straight away, I _never_ should have agreed to keep her secret. I just…" He shook his head, and then said, "Miss Cuthbert, after what happened to her, I couldn't bring myself to make decisions _for_ her. I hope you understand why."

Marilla looked at him, her troubled eyes seeming to find comfort in his. "I can see that the decision about whether to tell Anne's secret has weighed heavily on your mind. I wish I'd known right away, of course, but…" She shook her head, "I can't fault you, Gilbert, and I don't. You abided by her wishes because you didn't want her to feel that you, too, were violating her, is that right?"

 _So_ _she_ _understood_. He nodded once, looking solemn.

"You're a smart and brave boy, Gilbert, and you've done a good and kind thing. Thank you," she said kindly, "For taking care of her."

After Gilbert had gone, Marilla stood on the porch, crossing her arms in the cold and pulling her shawl closer. She stood there a moment, unsure of how to approach this.

Firming her resolve, she stepped down off the porch, and set out to look for Anne. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes before she found Anne in the back yard, curled up in the snow on a fallen tree, the wind drying her tears.

Marilla sat down beside her on the wet, cold tree without saying anything.

After a moment Marilla moved closer, and slowly, hesitantly, put her arm around Anne's slender shoulders. It was stiff; she was uncomfortable and felt wildly out of her element.

She didn't speak.

All was quiet for a few moments, except for the steady _plop plop_ of melting icicles in the late afternoon sun.

After a few minutes, Anne finally spoke:

"Gilbert _betrayed_ me," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'll never _forgive_ him".

"Come now," Marilla said gently, "Don't be angry with him. He must care about you very much to have worried so."

"No. I _hate_ him," Anne said, crying. "I'll _never_ speak to him _again_!"

Marilla didn't respond. She just sat there with Anne, in silence, her arm still stiffly around Anne's small frame, which was still shaking with tears.

After a few minutes, she said, "I want to apologize to you, Anne, and I hope that you can forgive me."

Anne finally looked up at her, tears still rolling down. "What? Why?"

Marilla looked sorry. "You should be able to tell me important things, but I haven't made myself easy for you to talk to, have I?" She took a deep breath. "If- if I'd been less _harsh_ , less _critical_ …perhaps you'd have felt you could have shared this with me."

She paused, then continued, "I know I have many shortcomings when it comes to bringing you up. The thing of it, is, Anne, I…I know more than anyone how much a young girl needs a mother…but I didn't exactly have a shining example of how mothering ought to be. And that has made it…hard…for me…to know how to…" She trailed off. "I _am_ going to change, Anne. To _try_ to be more like what you need…what you _deserve_ …"

Anne threw herself into Marilla's arms. "Oh, Marilla, you don't know how much I _love_ you, do you? It wasn't _your_ fault, me not being able to tell you. I just…I just _couldn't_."

Marilla's arms were stiff and awkward at first, unaccustomed to holding little girls and comforting their fears. But after a moment they relaxed, and Anne in her arms felt as natural as if she was always meant to be there.

She was cold, sitting there in the snow, and she knew Anne was too, and both their dresses would be wet with the snow- but she didn't move and she didn't say anything about sitting in the snow being foolhardy. She just sat there, and would for as long as Anne needed to.

But after a moment Anne moved away from her and stood up.

"Do you want to go in now? And have some tea?" Marilla asked.

Anne nodded.

Marilla stood up and brushed off her skirt.

"I'd like for us to be able to talk to each other," Marilla said kindly. "When we go in, will you sit down and talk with me?"

Anne didn't answer.

But then she held her hand out.

Marilla looked at it for a second, surprised, then took it, and they walked hand in hand back to the house.


	147. Mothering

Marilla wished that Matthew had come home with Anne. She thought he should be there, that he should know about this right away, as soon as she did, and that is was something the three of them should discuss as a family.

But he wasn't, and then she decided it was all right, after all. Maybe she and Anne needed to talk, woman to woman.

… _.Or, rather-_ she decided with a sudden realization _\- mother to child._

She came through the door holding Anne's hand.

She led Anne to sit down at the table, and she got her a cup of tea.

Anne's hands were cold as she held the teacup, and her white face had become red and puffy, tears still rimming her eyes.

She would not look at Marilla.

Marilla sat down across from her- but then changed her mind and moved to the chair at Anne's side. …Perhaps it would be easier for Anne to talk if she didn't have to look directly at Marilla's face.

"He told you _everything_ , didn't he?" Anne whispered.

Marilla spoke carefully- "He told me what happened- he told me that a boy had violated you. And that it happened in the woods on the way to school. …He told me the name of the boy who did it."

"I feel so ashamed," she whispered.

"Oh, Anne, no…" Marilla said. "You mustn't let him make you feel that way."

"I don't want people to look at me and picture me doing _that_ ," Anne said with a pained expression. "I don't want…I don't want _that_ to be what you and Matthew think of every time you look at me…"

Marilla put her hand under Anne's chin, drawing her face up to look her straight in the eyes.

"Do you know what I think of when I look at you?"

Anne had no idea, and her watery eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

"When I look at you, I think how did I get _so_ fortunate to have such a smart, brave, _dear_ child to call my own?"

Anne couldn't see Marilla through her tears.

"I was afraid you would _blame_ me. Because of…because of the whole…the whole intimate relations talk at school…because that's why he did it…because I _started_ the whole thing!"

Marilla didn't know how to approach that. Finally she said, "Anne, I _was_ upset at you for saying those things. But I hadn't stopped to consider that it was unfair for _you_ to be judged for that. You'd been… _exposed_ to things, things a young girl ought not to know yet. I was embarrassed." She set her cup down. "What you said caused a lot of anger at school and in town, and _I_ should have tried harder to make people understand that you were a victim in all of this. You didn't _mean_ to cause any harm to Prissy, you just didn't know any better. _I'm_ supposed to be protecting you; I ought to have _defended_ you more strongly. …But you saying those things about Prissy isn't an excuse for someone to cause such _harm_ to you. There isn't _any_ excuse for that. Someone committing such an act is so far beyond any justification…no, Anne, I would never blame you for this."

Anne took a shaky breath. "Oh," was all she could say.

"That was quite some time ago, now. And you've carried that all by yourself, all these weeks?" Marilla asked.

Anne shook her head. "Well, I just told Diana about it this week- I kind of _had_ to. And Gilbert's been there all along, of course. …But now I hate him."

"He helped you, though? At the time, I mean?"

Anne nodded.

Interested, Marilla asked her, "What did he do?"

There was a pause. Then she said: "Listened."

She didn't say anything else and the kitchen was quiet except for the clock ticking.

Anne shifted in her chair. "And he beat him up," she finally announced.

"Oh, did he?" Marilla knew she should not encourage fighting behavior, but the thought of this particular boy being hit met with her approval.

"Yeah…the day after it happened, I…I got upset about something, and I ran out of class, and Gilbert said that he came up to him later to make fun of me and he punched him. I never knew, though- he only told me that on Wednesday."

"He told me he walked you to school," Marilla commented.

"Yeah. He walked with me. Every day. Even the days I didn't go, he just waited outside in the snow in case I came out," Anne remembered. "And…my ripped petticoat. I told you I sewed it but I lied to you, I couldn't sew it. He did."

Marilla raised her eyebrows. "He did? My, that must have been quite an awkward task for him. I'm surprised he didn't insist you find a girl to help you with it."

"He knew I didn't want anyone else to see it."

She was quiet a moment.

"Well, it's a shame you're never going to speak to him again; he sounds mighty nice to have around in times of trouble." She set her cup down. "But, if that's what you've decided."

Anne nodded, biting her lip.

"Anne…about this boy. The one who hurt you- Gilbert told me who it was. He's the same one who hurt your wrist. Did that all happen on the same day?"

Anne nodded, not looking at her.

"Did he do anything else to hurt you?"

"No."

"He didn't hit you, or anything? I want you to tell me everything. Let's not have secrets from each other anymore."

"He didn't," Anne said. "Well, he kinda sat on my arm. Afterward." She closed her eyes, pained at saying ' _afterward'_ , knowing that Marilla knew what had come before.

"He…sat on your arm?" Marilla was confused.

"After," Anne said. "He didn't want me to get away, I guess. He was fixing his hat and stuff. So he sat on my arm. His knees, I mean. I had bruises on my arm from his knees."

Marilla hated hearing this but knew she had to. "So…he didn't let you go?"

Anne shook her head. "No. I don't know if he was going to do anything else or not, but Gilbert came then."

Marilla nodded, relieved that Gilbert had come in case there was any chance it could have somehow gotten even worse.

Marilla took a breath, then, knowing there was something she needed to address but feeling it was such an important message that she worried about how she said it. She said slowly, "It occurred to me that you might think this was something that could happen often; that it was normal or even to be expected. And it most definitely is _not_. It's not normal, and it never should have happened. You ought not go through life thinking that that's the sort of thing you can expect from men…"

Anne nodded, but Marilla wasn't sure if that message was received. But then- she realized- that particular point, along with so many others regarding what had happened, was not _going_ to be a one-time statement; it was, instead, to be a continuing conversation, one that would have to be re-visited time and time again as years went by and Anne grew up.

She moved on to a more immediate concern: "Anne…I don't know quite how to ask this, but have you any reason to believe there was any lasting injury in the area that…that this was done to you? Are you in any _pain_?" She hoped not; she couldn't imagine making Anne go to the doctor about pains there; it would just traumatize her all over again.

Anne shook her head, tears spilling. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

The "anymore" broke Marilla's heart.

Anne was surprised to see Marilla with tears coming down, too. "It wasn't _so_ bad," Anne said quickly, reaching out and holding Marilla's hand. She's trying to comfort _me_ , Marilla thought. She tried to get ahold of herself.

"Of course it was bad, Anne," Marilla said, regaining control of her emotions. "You don't have to pretend it wasn't. Not for my benefit. All right?"

Anne nodded. "Marilla…you've never…"

"What?"

" _Done_ _that_ ," Anne said awkwardly. "I wondered if...I wondered if it has to hurt like that all the time. Because…well, it makes me wonder why women get married at all. I know they fall in love. But if _that's_ what's coming…"

"Oh, Anne…" Marilla said. She wasn't sure what to say, not having any personal experience she could share. "I'm sure it isn't the same."

"But you don't know," Anne said.

Marilla suggested, "Would you like to talk about those things with a woman who's married? Maybe that would be a good idea. I could ask Mrs. Lynde-"

"No!" Anne said, looking horrified. "No, Marilla, _no_. That would be _awful_. I would positively _die_. _Please_ don't. Please don't tell _anyone_." Then she said, "…And that's another reason I was afraid to tell you…because I didn't want you and Matthew to _do_ anything about it."

"Do anything…?"

Anne shifted uncomfortably. "You know, go…tell the Andrews, make a scene. It would be _dreadful_." She looked up suddenly. "You don't _have_ to, do you? Isn't it enough that _you_ know? You don't have to do anything with _them_ , do you?"

Marilla's face tightened, but then she relaxed it. "Anne…it isn't something that can be ignored. This young man has done something terribly wrong, and he mustn't be allowed to go on thinking that this is normal behavior. And his parents need to understand what he did so they can make informed decisions about how to…how to manage him."

"What are they supposed to do?" Anne wondered.

"Well…I don't know," she admitted. "They may need to…to find some sort of help, or…send him away, or…oh, I don't know, Anne…I haven't had to deal with this sort of thing before, I…I don't know what ought to happen."

She put that out of her mind, telling Anne: "But you mustn't worry about any of that. _We'll_ worry about that, you just think about what you need to feel better."

Saying that made her take a new look at Anne, and then she said:

"Anne, you look _so_ worn out. I'm thinking back now to all those sleepless nights and difficult mornings you've had. That was all due to this, and I never knew. You must have been exhausted. And you look exhausted now. Come with me, you ought to be in bed."

Anne didn't argue with that. Marilla went with her up to her room. "You get into your nightgown. I'll run down and get new water in your pitcher so you can wash your face."

When Marilla came back up Anne was in her nightgown and was slowly pulling her hair loose from their braids.

Marilla poured the water from the pitcher into Anne's washbowl and waited while Anne washed her face.

"Do you need anything to eat or drink?" Marilla asked kindly.

Anne shook her head. She got into her bed. Then she remembered, "Oh, no…my sucker."

Marilla sat down on the edge of the bed. "We'll go into town and get you another one."

"That was the only one," she said sadly.

"Well, we'll get you something else, then," Marilla said, pulling the covers up around her. "What else did they have?"

"Lots of things," Anne said, yawning. "Licorice, cinnamon sticks, saltwater taffy, chewing gum, lemon drops…" she trailed off. She looked _so_ sleepy.

Then she said- trying to make herself _wake up_ a little- "I ought to get up and go clean it off the floor, though, Marilla. I just _left_ it there. It's in pieces and it's _sticky_. I'm sorry…"

Marilla shook her head. "I'll clean it up. You stay put."

Anne looked sad. "Poor Matthew. He saw me looking at the candy at the counter, and he asked what kind I liked…I told him that I always just liked to _look_ at the candy whenever I went in to stores, because they're so _pretty_ …and…and he told me to pick something I wanted, so I asked for a lemon drop because it was just _one_ little thing…I didn't want Matthew to spend money on me….but…but Matthew told the shopkeeper to get down the great big sucker hanging up above the candy tray...it was all swirly orange and lime, wrapped up and tied with a big yellow ribbon and…" Tears came to her eyes, but the tears had _nothing_ to do with the sucker. "Marilla, what am I going to tell Matthew? I don't _want_ to tell him what _happened to me_! It's so _awful_ …it's just unbearable. I _can't_ tell him. I can just _imagine_ his _face_ …"

"You leave telling Matthew to me," she said calmly. "Don't worry about anything. Just rest."

Anne's eyes were large and watery.

Marilla looked down at her with concern.

"Sleep as long as you want to. Tell you what, I'll bring your supper up and you can eat it without even getting out of bed."

Marilla smoothed her hair out of her eyes. "And I'll come up and read to you before bed. Would you like that?"

Anne thought Marilla was coddling her like she was a helpless baby…

…But Anne decided she was willing to let herself be coddled right now.

Marilla gave her a small smile, and left the room, shutting the door softly on her way out.

When she'd left, Anne breathed in and slowly let the breath go.

She had the _strangest_ sensation, and after a moment, she realized what it was:

It was first time in nearly three months that she felt she could relax.


	148. Boundaries

When Matthew came home, Marilla was waiting at the window, watching for him.

He came in, saw her face, and stopped short. "What is it?"

Marilla pursed her lips. "Sit down. We need to talk about Anne."

* * *

After Marilla had relayed the information in exactly the same way Gilbert had relayed it to her, poor Matthew sat stunned.

Finally he spoke up: "When we rode to the store for the sugar, she started talking but I thought she was feeling poorly about being left an orphan. That's what…that's what I spoke to her about. I just told her that they wouldn't have left her alone if they'd had any choice, and that they still loved her even though they couldn't be with her. …I told her how glad we were to have her…and she seemed to feel better. …I thought that's all it was."

They sat there a moment, Matthew still shaking his head in shock.

But Matthew did not have a chance to adjust to the news before they were interrupted by a sharp rap on the front door.

The Cuthbert's looked at each other, knowing all too well who it was that had come to see them. "Well," Marilla said, getting up, "We must face the music."

Matthew hesitated, then reluctantly got up and followed slowly.

Marilla opened the door with trepidation.

The door was hardly opened before Harmon Andrews began angrily, "Miss Cuthbert, we need to have a discussion about your child. I don't know if you're aware, but that girl has been spreading revolting rumors about our son! We've come to settle this. Is your brother home? The two of you must do something about her!"

When Marilla first heard from Gilbert that the Andrews planned to confront her, she had begun to think about how they would have that conversation, and what she ought to say.

She was glad that she had gotten Anne to bed already, so that she would not be aware that the Andrews had come at all.

But now, actually seeing the Andrews, and knowing that Matthew had not even begun to process this- and she herself needed time to reflect on it- she decided that any discussion with the Andrews needed to wait.

Matthew came up behind Marilla now, joining her at the door.

Marilla was diplomatic. "I quite agree we have a great deal to discuss. But not tonight."

She thought a moment. She did not want the discussion to take place at Green Gables. She did not want Anne to hear any discussions they had with the Andrews. " _We_ will come to _your_ house. Tomorrow. About three o'clock. Would that be suitable?"

Mrs. Andrews put her hand on Harmon's arm. "That's for the best, I think, dear. Maybe it is best for us all to have a night to gather our thoughts and calm down a bit before we approach this."

A small voice wafted down to them from upstairs: "Marilla…" Anne called. Anne had woken at the sound of the urgent, angry knock at the door. She did not know what it was that had woken her, but now she was thirsty. She knew she ought to get out of bed and get water for herself, rather than expecting it to be brought to her, but she didn't want to get up, and, knowing that Marilla was willing to take care of her, she just called out to her.

"Excuse me. I need to be with my daughter now." Marilla said calmly, starting to shut the door.

"Now wait just a minute!" Harmon said angrily. " _That girl_ is bent on destroying our sons good name and you don't seem to be the _slightest_ bit _concerned_ about that!"

Matthew said now, speaking firmly, his voice coming out surprisingly strong, " _Our_ concern is for our child and the trauma she's been through at the hands of _your_ son. Marilla told you when we would come speak to you. Now good _night._ "

And he shut the door in their faces.


	149. Matthew

After Marilla brought Anne some water, she came downstairs again.

Matthew looked at her.

"She's all right," Marilla told him, "Just thirsty. She cried quite a bit earlier."

He nodded.

Then he asked, "Did she realize the Andrews came over?"

Marilla shook her head. "I don't think so. She didn't mention them, and I didn't tell her."

Marilla headed into the kitchen. "After I got Anne settled into bed, I got supper ready. I'll have to warm it up again in the oven, you were home later than I thought."

She began moving around the kitchen. In a few minutes she'd put together a tray. "I told Anne she could eat her supper in bed."

Then Marilla had a thought. "Why don't _you_ take it up to her? She hasn't seen you yet."

He nodded, but once holding the tray, he just stood there, uncomfortable.

"Well?" Marilla asked.

"….What'll I _say_ to her?" Matthew finally asked.

Marilla thought about this. "What do you want her to know?"

Matthew said simply, "That we love her."

Marilla nodded. "Then that's what you'll say."

* * *

Anne heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she said softly. She still felt embarrassed that Matthew and Marilla knew about the act that had been done to her; she felt awkward at talking to Marilla and she was in no hurry to face Matthew.

Matthew opened the door slowly, balancing the tray against him while he turned the knob.

He came in without looking at her at first, and got the tray settled on her bedside table.

Once it was settled, he sat down on the edge of the bed and finally faced her.

"Marilla…told you?" she asked, her voice timid.

Matthew nodded. His eyes were red and watery.

Anne said, "I'm sorry."

Matthew shook his head. "You've got no cause for apologies."

"You don't blame me?" Anne was almost afraid to ask.

"No," Matthew said. "That boy wronged you. It wasn't your fault."

Tears came to Anne's eyes. "But I'm still sorry…I'm sorry you had to hear about it at all. And I'm sorry for having to…to put you through this."

Matthew shook his head. "You didn't have to keep this from us…I hope you didn't think you _had_ to keep this from us."

"Are you angry that I hid it?" Anne asked.

"No." he said. "I just wish you hadn't felt it necessary."

He paused a moment, then said:

"You're new to this whole idea of a family, but I have something to tell you. A family isn't much of a family if they can only have good times. Sometimes…sometimes they have bad times. And it's how they pull together when the bad times come that make them a family."

What he had said made sense and that one phrase had taught her so much about families. But she said:

"I just hated to think of making you _sad_ , Matthew…"

" _You're_ sad, aren't you?" He asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

He took her small hand in his own strong ones and said, "Then why don't we be sad _together_?"


	150. The Wedding Planner

Ruby felt a little fuzzy on the details of intimate relations.

Anne had said that she could hear the Hammonds having intimate relations, and that she had heard things go two different ways- sometimes Mrs. Hammond acted like it was fun, and sometimes she yelled and fought about it. Ruby didn't understand exactly was going on when they did things the fun way, and she didn't understand the mouse in the pocket. …But when Anne talked about the other way- the way where Mrs. Hammond didn't want to do it- that _scared_ Ruby.

So, she gathered, Billy and Anne seemed to be in disagreement on which way they did it. Billy seemed to think it had been the better way, and Anne seemed to think it had been the scary way and that she hadn't wanted Billy at all.

Ruby wasn't sure who to believe.

Who was more likely to be giving an honest telling of what had really happened?

Anne had been lying to them all along, so maybe she shouldn't believe what Anne said.

But then Billy was not exactly trustworthy himself.

Josie definitely believed Billy. She was convinced that Anne had led Billy astray. Ruby wasn't so sure… Josie overlooked a _lot_ of Billy's faults, but Ruby had seen Billy be mean before- really mean. She wouldn't put it past him to attack Anne in _some_ way…even if she didn't exactly understand what he had done.

Regardless, the end result was that Anne was expecting a baby and Billy was the culprit.

Ruby thought that if Billy really was abandoning Anne now when she was with child, that it was just terrible of him.

Ruby grieved that Gilbert could no longer be hers- she had cried herself to sleep- but the next morning when she woke up, she decided to be as logical and grown up about this as she could possibly be. She thought it was very brave of Gilbert to offer to step in so Anne wouldn't be shamed for having a baby out of wedlock. _There's no boy as devastatingly romantic as him, but there's also no boy as giving._

She sighed _. We would have had such a beautiful wedding and our house would have been perfect and we'd be so happy…but_ \- she thought bravely _\- Gilbert has sacrificed all his happiness in our marriage to help a poor troubled unwed mother. I suppose I can't fault him for that. ...It really is very noble of him._

Ruby decided that she would show her love to Gilbert- and her forgiveness of Anne- by helping them with their wedding. She had lots of ideas for a romantic wedding, she'd planned everything out perfectly for when she herself married Gilbert. But now her ideas would have to be for Anne instead.

She'd even saved things she wanted to use. She went to her closet now and got out her wedding supplies, which she kept in an old hatbox of her mother's. She opened it up and began taking things out- she had a drawing she'd made of how she wanted her hair to be styled, she had a thin newsprint dress pattern for the style of wedding dress she wanted, a swatch of fabric in the shade of pink she wanted her bridesmaid's dresses to be, and small bunch of flowers she'd pressed to remind her of what kind of flowers she wanted to use in her wedding.

Then she remembered her white wicker doll baskets that she had told Gilbert they could carry roses in. She picked them up off the little round doll table and chairs in the corner of her bedroom, which she _never_ played with anymore- except _sometimes_ \- and she set them with the rest of her wedding supplies.

"Someone will have to ask the reverend to do the ceremony," she said aloud. "I suppose Anne's family will do that part. And we'll need to plan for the dinner afterward." She began making a list of the food they should have for the wedding party. She wondered if her mother would let her borrow the crystal punch bowl she always used for fancy parties.

"And invitations," she thought suddenly. She got her composition book and made two drafts of invitations:

 _Mr. John Blythe along with Mr. Matthew Cuthbert and Miss Marilla Cuthbert_

 _Request the Honor of Your Presence_

 _At the Marriage of Their Children_

 _Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley Cuthbert_

 _To Take Place on_ -

Ruby left a blank space, not knowing what day it would be. _But it'll have to be soon,_ she thought, _or Anne's going to start showing._

Then she wrote out another invitation.

 _Mr. Matthew and Miss Marilla Cuthbert_

 _Request the Pleasure of Your Company_

 _At the Wedding of their daughter Anne Shirley_

 _To Mr. Gilbert Blythe, son of John Blythe_

 _At half past three o'clock…_

Ruby stopped.

"I'll get Anne to take a look at these, and once she picks one then I'll ask my mother to get us some fancy stationary and we'll start drawing up a guest list."

Ruby put everything back into her hatbox and decided that she'd ask Anne to come over after school sometime this week and they'd start working on the wedding.

Ruby decided she was an extraordinarily giving person, and she felt quite good about herself.


	151. Billy and Josie

Sorry this chapter feels like it came "too late", I meant to have it be right after Ruby talks to Gilbert at school and before Gilbert goes to the post office. But I forgot to put it there : ( I don't want to go back and change what I already have so I just put it here. Sorry.

* * *

While Gilbert had been copying his notes down for Anne about the War of 1812, back on Friday afternoon- that fateful Friday that everything had _erupted_ at school- Billy and Josie had engaged in a heated conversation in the corner of the classroom.

"Look, Josie, you know I did stuff with her," Billy said. "But I didn't attack her like she says. She's the one who was trying to lure _me_. She's gross and she throws herself at boys. I didn't _mean_ to get taken in by her. I'm sorry."

"I know," Josie said. "We were all just fine before she came here. All she's done since she came has been to ruffle feathers. But I still think its gross you would even consider doing anything with her. I can't even imagine you _kissing_ that girl."

"Well I didn't kiss her," Billy said.

"Oh, you didn't?"

"No."

Josie felt better. "That's good. Anyway, I wish you hadn't done anything. But you can't change it now. The only thing left to do is…minimize the damage."

Billy looked at Josie dumbly.

Josie explained, "You have to establish that it wasn't _you_."

Billy nodded. "Oh, I know. And I think it should be okay; _my_ parents wouldn't believe I did anything with her. Or to her. But I don't see why _you_ have to go home and tell _your_ parents," Billy argued. "Or anyone else's, either- I thought you were on my side!"

"I am," Josie said.

"Then why are you going to go home and tell everybody?" He asked. "If you're on my side then you shouldn't bring it up at all! Just keep quiet about everything…"

"You can't deal with it _that_ way, not if there's a baby coming. Ruby said she was talking about a baby. Otherwise you could have just said the _whole thing_ was a lie, and people _would_ have believed it."

 _Why did there have to be a baby, then?_ Billy thought, upset. He hadn't thought about _that_ at _all_ when he'd done this, and now it could ruin everything. …A baby gave Anne _proof_.

"How long ago did you guys do that?" Josie asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"I don't know, I don't remember," Billy said, shrugging. "Two or three months maybe?"

If Anne had been there, she could have told him that it had been two months, two weeks, three days, and eight hours.

"Then it'll show sometime soon, probably."

"...don't go home and tell people, Josie. Can't we just try to keep the story from getting out?"

"Do I have to do all your thinking _for_ you?" Josie snapped. "What do you think will happen if she tells everyone you did this, and you _deny_ it, and everyone believes you- but _then_ a baby comes? Everyone's going to go back and think, _she was telling the truth after all!"_

Billy felt miserable. "So what are we supposed to do?"

"That baby has to be part of the story _now._ So we should all go home and tell our parents that Anne's having a baby and she's saying you're at fault. We can all say we think it must be Gilbert's, because Ruby can even attest to them spending time alone together in that ramshackle old building in the woods."

"But if it really was Gilbert's, why would she be saying it was mine?"

Josie thought about that a minute. Then she said, "Money. Your family has more money than Gilbert's father. So she wants to pass it off as yours so she can finagle money out of you. And she's decided that if that doesn't work, she'll take Gilbert up on his offer to marry her."

Billy nodded slowly. He could see that making sense.

As long as Jane didn't tell.

He looked over at Jane. She was looking over at Billy and Josie with a conflicted expression.

On the way home that Friday afternoon, Jane had asked, "What were you and Josie talking about?"

Billy shrugged.

"You know," Jane said sharply, "You're really past the point of not telling me things. I already know too much. You may as well tell me."

"Fine," Billy said. "She's going to go home and tell her parents that Anne's having a baby and blaming it on me."

Jane's eyes widened. "So it'll be out now."

"No," Billy said. "It won't be out, because we're saying she's lying."

Jane's shoulders slumped. She'd hoped Billy was going to finally admit to their parents what he'd done.

"But, Billy, if she's having a _baby_ ," Jane said, "Then how can you say she's _lying_? ...You should just tell mother and father the truth."

"Josie thought of that," Billy said happily. "It's Gilbert's."

Jane made a face at him. "You're going to blame this on Gilbert?"

"Sure," Billy said with satisfaction. "Mr. Perfect can see what it's like to be blamed for everything for once."

Jane was sad. Then she thought, "How are you going to make people think it was him instead of you?"

"Easy," Billy said. "Ruby caught them alone together in the woods, in some little house or something. She said it seemed like they'd been sneaking off alone together a lot, right? There you go."

Jane bit her lip. Ruby thought Gilbert and Anne were getting married. Maybe they were. Maybe it was for the best. If Gilbert married her, then Ruby would have to quit her fussing, Anne wouldn't be shamed for having a baby out of wedlock, and no one would have to know the terrible thing that her brother had done.


	152. New Plan

Note- In this chapter Anne slept for 14 hours after talking to her family. This is based on real life. When I told my parents, everything felt SO changed and I went to bed and I literally slept for fourteen hours straight. So Anne is too.

Also, if you're wondering why Gilbert's dad is still alive- in the tv show he died during this winter- well he can wait until sometime after my story is over because I don't want to write about him dying, I hate that the show killed him off in the first place- in the books he lives to see his grandkids!

* * *

Saturday morning Matthew and Marilla had breakfast alone. Anne was still in bed.

"You think we ought to wake her?" Marilla asked. "She's been asleep for nearly fourteen hours, Matthew. And that's not including the little nap she took before you brought dinner up to her. I've been in to check on her several times, and she's all right, but my goodness, you'd think she'd been drugged."

Matthew shook his head. "Let her be. If she's sleeping that long, she needs it."

They were quiet a moment, each thinking about their impending meeting with the Andrews, which Marilla had promised would be today at the Andrews house at about three o'clock.

"I suppose-" Matthew finally said- "I suppose we need to talk about today."

"Yes," Marilla agreed. "We must."

They both looked as though they didn't know how to begin.

Matthew shook his head. "I may hold my tongue often enough, Marilla, but I've got quite a few words stored up for the Andrews…"

Marilla said, trying to keep emotion at bay and speaking logically and practically: "I think- I think we- ah- we can't react in anger at the Andrews. We…we need to keep Anne's feelings in the forefront. After all, this is about _her_. We can't let our own feelings dictate how we respond-"

"I'm angry," Matthew said simply.

Marilla ran her hands along her skirt, in a nervous fashion. "I am too."

They were quiet a moment.

Then Marilla tried to go on, "But we mustn't _act_ angry. If Anne sees us angry, she'll- she'll think she's caused us trouble. She'll feel we've been burdened by extra trouble on account of her, even though she didn't do anything."

"She might even think we're angry with _her_." Matthew pointed out.

"Right." Marilla said resolutely.

They were quiet a moment, then Marilla told him:

"It upset her a great deal when I got angry at Billy."

Matthew looked surprised.

Marilla explained, "When Anne first told me about her wrist, I think she was going to tell me about the rest of it, too, but I scared her off. I was _so_ angry at Billy…and I think I scared her by reacting so angrily. She quickly tried to play it off as a small thing…she even told me that she thought Billy was _nice_."

Matthew shook his head, upset by that.

She took a deep breath. "So, we mustn't be angry with Billy right now. We must only show concern for Anne- keep our focus on her- and not be distracted by what we feel for him."

Matthew let out a slow breath. "It won't be easy."

"It won't," Marilla thought, "But at some point, she will probably begin to show anger at Billy herself."

"Let's take her lead on that, then," Matthew said. "Once she gets angry with him, then we can let her know that we're angry, too."

Marilla nodded. "But until then we'll keep calm for Anne."

"For Anne," Matthew repeated.

They sat there a moment, each in their own thoughts, until Matthew said, "I hate to leave her here by herself while we go, especially since we don't know how long we'll be gone. And what'll we tell her we're doing?"

Marilla said, "It's not as if she isn't old enough to be left on her own for a few hours." But then she sighed. _She_ didn't want to leave Anne alone either, not at a time like this. "And I hadn't thought about what to _tell_ her…I don't think we ought to tell her we're going to speak to the Andrews."

"I don't think so, either," Matthew put in. "It'll only cause her stress."

Finally Marilla said, "She said Diana knows what happened. Maybe we should ask Mrs. Barry if Diana can come over for the afternoon. Then she won't be alone while we're gone."

Matthew looked like he was thinking. "I wonder if Mrs. Barry knows about these allegations."

"I can't imagine she does," Marilla said. "Otherwise we'd have heard from her by now, I'd think. Of course Anne told Diana herself about what she'd been through. But Anne mentioned Diana's been absent a few days, and Gilbert said things at school were just now getting out, so Diana probably hasn't any idea at all that things have changed in the time she's been out of school…I do hope the poor girl doesn't let on that she already knew about this…I can't see that ending well with her mother…"

Matthew nodded. Then he said slowly, "Maybe we ought not go to the Andrews just yet."

Marilla asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, now," Matthew said, "I know we told them we'd come today. But I feel we ought to know a bit more first."

"Anne said she's told us everything," Marilla said.

"No, I mean to find out what the _law_ says about the matter. So we're prepared. When we speak to them, we can make sure _they_ know that _we_ know what the law says…what…what Anne's rights are."

Marilla nodded, thinking about this.

"The trouble is," Marilla let out her breath, feeling unsettled. "I…don't know who to ask about such things…"

They thought for a moment. There were no judges or solicitors residing in Avonlea. They could travel of course, to Charlottetown or somewhere further, to make inquiries, but that couldn't be done very quickly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ryland have a son in law school," Marilla remembered. "He's nearly through his program now, and he's about to sit for the bar. Even if he doesn't know about that particular issue offhand, perhaps he has some law books that explain such things."

Matthew said, "When I took Anne into town for the sugar, we met Mrs. Ryland in the store. She mentioned that her son was home now for a short break. Do you want to ask him about this?"

Marilla nodded. "It can't hurt, and it might help."

Matthew said, "I'll pay them a visit, then. We ought to do that _before_ we see the Andrews."

"I quite agree," Marilla said. "Do you mind to go now? The sooner we find out what's what, we'll feel better. And then we can know how to approach the Andrews."

Matthew nodded and got up, ready to go right at that moment.

It wasn't more than a few minutes after Matthew left that Anne came downstairs in her nightgown and her new houseshoes.

Marilla was cleaning up after breakfast. She smiled when Anne came in, but her eyes were worried, looking Anne over to see if anything seemed amiss.

But she was relieved to see that Anne looked refreshed after her long sleep, and there was no trace of sadness or worry on her face.

Anne looked at the dishes on the table, bits of pancake left on plates with sticky knives and forks. "Oh, I missed breakfast," and looked sad when she asked, "Where's Matthew?"

"He's just run out for a quick errand. Sit down and eat now." Marilla patted her shoulder as she sat down.

"I can make my own, Marilla, you don't have to do it," Anne said, seeing that Marilla was turning the stove back on to make more pancakes.

"Nonsense. It'll just take me a moment and then I can sit down with you and we'll eat together. I already ate, but I'll have a little more with you."

When they were ready, Marilla put a plate in front of her.

Anne said enthusiastically, " _Thank_ you, Marilla. They smell absolutely _delectable_!"

She started to pour syrup, but then hesitated. She asked, "Marilla, do you have any confectioner's sugar left from when we made the Christmas cookies?"

Marilla shook her head. "We used the whole bag."

"Oh," Anne said. "It's good on pancakes. If you put preserves on them, and sprinkle the confectioner's sugar on top. It looks like snow."

"That sounds pretty," Marilla commented. "Sounds more like a dessert than a breakfast, though."

"It _is_ just like a dessert," Anne agreed. "Gilbert made me pancakes and that's what he did to them."

Marilla was surprised. "He made you pancakes? When did this happen?"

Anne hoped Marilla was okay with this. But, she agreed with Marilla when she'd said they shouldn't have secrets from each other anymore, so she was prepared to be open about everything. "One day when he was going to walk me to school, he decided not to go because his father wasn't well-"

Marilla's face changed. "Oh…"

"Well, he seemed to be all right," Anne said. "But Gilbert was worried that if he was walking around the house alone he might stumble and fall. So he didn't want to leave him."

Marilla nodded, waiting for her to go on.

"But, see, I didn't want to go to school _without_ him, and he said-" Anne bit her lip. "I _know_ I shouldn't have skipped school, Marilla, and I _lied_ to you about being there-"

Marilla shook her head, touching Anne's arm lightly. "It's all right, nothing you tell me will upset me."

Anne breathed deeply, grateful for that promise.

She moved on, "So I spent the day there instead, and he made pancakes."

Marilla thought she was going to keep talking, but instead Anne looked down, biting her lip, blushing pink and wondering why talking about Gilbert always seemed to do this to her.

She pushed that aside and said, "His father is _so_ perfectly delightful. I just adore him."

That reminded her of what Diana had said about Marilla and Mr. Blythe. She watched Marilla's expression curiously.

But Marilla seemed to be carefully controlling her face. "Well…I'm glad you had somewhere safe to go, then," she said. "And I'm glad you're telling me everything now."

Anne nodded.

"It was good of Gilbert to invite you that day, wasn't it? Instead of just leaving you to go to school all by yourself when you didn't feel safe there," Marilla mentioned.

Anne poked at her pancake with her fork. "I suppose even a traitor can have moments of decency."

"All right," Marilla said, putting the lid back on the butter dish. She didn't argue with Anne- there truly was no point.

Anne finished eating and then she and Marilla washed and dried the dishes. After that, Anne decided she wanted to clean all the cabinets. She was still in her nightgown, and Marilla asked her why she didn't go up and get dressed first, but Anne was already taking everything out of the cabinets and stacking them up and Marilla was preoccupied with making sure Anne's towers of cans would not topple over. Marilla tried to tell Anne that she didn't _need_ to do any cleaning, but seeing that her words had very little effect on Anne's behavior, she gave up and told her they'd clean the cabinets together.

"Where did you say Matthew had gone?" Anne asked casually as she wiped up some spilled baking soda.

"Oh, he went over to the Ryland's," Marilla said.

Anne froze. "Why is he talking to _them_?"

Marilla looked at her funny. "Why, Anne, you sound as if you don't like them. You don't even know them, do you? I don't remember introducing you…"

Anne swallowed hard. "No, you didn't." But her voice had a hard edge to it.

"Is something the matter?" Marilla asked.

Anne slowly shook her head, not knowing what to say.

But then she asked, in a pleading voice, "Marilla, why did he go _there_?"

"Anne, what is it? What's wrong? Are they involved somehow in all this?"

Anne shook her head, "No, no…it's just…Diana wanted us to ask their son about…about what happened. About if it was a crime or not. They have a son who's about to graduate law school."

Marilla nodded slowly. "We know."

They heard the front door opening as Matthew was getting back home.

Anne's heart sank. "Oh, Marilla, Matthew's not getting _him_ involved in this, is he? Oh, please tell me he's _not_ …"

Matthew came into the kitchen. He looked at Marilla, as if wondering why on earth she had told Anne what he was up to.

Marilla looked back at him, helpless- she hadn't meant for Anne to understand what his trip to the Ryland's was about.

Marilla wanted to lie to Anne. She didn't want Anne to worry, at least not before they knew anything. But… _she_ had been the one to tell Anne that their family shouldn't have secrets anymore.

So she said, "Anne, we aren't going to divulge everything that happened to you. We're simply inquiring- in a very _general_ way- if there's something we ought to be doing legally."

" _Please_ ," Anne begged. "I _don't_ want anyone to know!"

"Anne, be sensible, if this was a _crime_ , then…"

Anne buried her face in her hands- not crying, just exasperated.

"We don't have to talk about it right _now_ , though," Matthew said, gesturing for Marilla to notice Anne.

Marilla began, "We-"

"Not now." Matthew said firmly.

Matthew didn't often take such a vocal stance, so Marilla was willing to let him have the last word.

Later, after Anne had gone upstairs to get dressed, Matthew explained, "We can look into it ourselves, and decide what to do. She doesn't need to be a part of it."

Marilla thought that was foolish. She explained how the subject had come up and how Anne already knew the connection the Ryland's had to all of this. Then she said, "It does concern _her_ , you know. She ought to have parents who will be open and honest with her."

Matthew shook his head and said, "What she ought to have are parents who make the best decision for her and protect her from knowing things she needn't know."

Marilla stared at him a moment. Perhaps he was right.

"Well, what did they say? Were they home?" Marilla asked.

He shook his head. "Mrs. Ryland said he's been off all day visiting friends. I didn't ask _her_ about Anne- I just said there was a question I had regarding the law and if it wouldn't trouble him, I'd like to ask his advice. She told me she'd ask him to stop by tonight sometime. So…I guess we'll just wait?"

"What about the Andrews?" Marilla asked. "It's only a few hours until we said we'd be there."

Matthew started to get up again. "I'm going to go tell them that today just isn't a good day for us and they'll have to wait."

"Oh, Matthew, how are they going to react to that?" Marilla said.

"I don't give one fig about how they react. We'll do what we think is best for Anne- and what's best for Anne is that we don't talk to them about _anything_ until after we know what the law says."

He got up and left then. Marilla stared after him. _He would move mountains for that girl if he had to,_ she thought. _And bless him for it._


	153. Anne on Trial

Author's Note- To have them talk about what they should actually DO about Billy's attack, I realized that I would need to know what the law said about that sort of thing in the time period. I read some academic journals and found out a short list of facts, which I will be writing into my story so that it is as historically accurate as I can make it, but, I began to get upset by it and had physical affects from reading that stuff, so I stopped reading, so it is possible there could be more stuff I don't know, but I did as much reading as I could stand.

Back then things were not good for women. Even though I never told anyone what happened to me, reading this made me feel glad that I live today where I *could* have done something about it and probably been believed, instead of living back in this time period.

* * *

The Cuthberts waited all evening, and Anne, who didn't know that the Ryland's son was coming over to their house, picked up on their nervousness. Matthew tried to distract her- and himself- by playing checkers.

Finally Marilla looked at the clock and said, "Anne, you ought to go to bed now."

Anne was surprised. "Marilla, it's only eight o'clock," she said.

"Well…you look tired. And you need extra rest, I think."

"I'm _not_ tired," Anne protested.

"I told you it's time for bed," Marilla said firmly. "Go."

"All right, all right…" Anne grumbled, getting up to go.

"I'll come up with you and read to you for a bit, all right? Will that help?" Marilla _was_ going to tell Anne she could read in bed, but she could already picture Anne huddled over her lamp, her eyes struggling to stay open as she pushed herself to keep reading and reading late into the night. So Marilla hoped that if she read to Anne herself, then Anne would lay down and shut her eyes and maybe as she listened to Marilla's calm voice she would drift off to sleep.

As soon as Anne had gone, Marilla stood up to follow her and said to Matthew, "I'm going to see if I can get her to sleep. If the Ryland's son _is_ going to come over tonight, I don't want her to be listening in at the door while we talk."

Matthew nodded.

He put the game away and then got up, looking out the window into the dark evening. Mrs. Ryland had told him she'd ask her son to come over, but maybe she forgot. Or maybe he didn't want to come. Matthew hoped the boy would come _tonight_ , and not decide it was too late and he'd come in the morning.

Marilla was only upstairs for a few minutes before she came down again. "She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow," she said with amusement. "Not tired, she said. Well, I'm glad."

Matthew nodded.

It was good Marilla got Anne settled for the night because it was only a half-hour later that Morgan Ryland stood on their doorstep.

He did not have to knock, Matthew was watching at the door still.

"Mr. Cuthbert, Miss Cuthbert," he said, smiling and shaking hands, "It's so good to see you."

"Welcome," Marilla said, ushering him in. "Thank you so much for coming."

"I hope I'm not too late," He said apologetically. "I realize the hour, but my mother said you seemed most anxious to speak with me about something that I hated to make you wait until tomorrow after she told you I'd come tonight."

"Oh, no," Marilla said, "We're glad you came tonight- I hope it didn't trouble you to come in the dark…"

Marilla got tea for them and they sat down in the parlor.

"So my mother said something was concerning you," he said. "I haven't sat for the bar yet, so I hesitate to give legal advice, but I'll do what I can."

"We've got Anne upstairs in bed," Marilla said softly, "And this concerns her, so…"

Morgan nodded, understanding she wanted things to stay quiet between them. "My mother told me about the little girl you took in. Mighty good of you folks, if I may say so. Has there been some trouble with paperwork in adopting her?"

"No," Marilla told him. "It isn't about that. It's about something else."

She looked at Matthew, as if wanting his help in getting this out. Matthew didn't know what to say.

Finally Marilla continued, "Well, I'll just come right out with it. A boy…attacked her. He attacked her in a…a particularly brutal nature. She's traumatized and she's been hiding it for nearly three months. We only just found out about it ourselves. She's been the subject of rumors about intimate relations but she didn't know anything about it herself, not really, until she was attacked…" Marilla had to stop talking, becoming emotional. She struggled to get ahold of herself.

She could see Morgan Ryland's face change, and she knew that he knew.

"And you're considering getting the law involved," he understood.

"We don't know _what_ we ought to do," Marilla said humbly.

Matthew finally put in a word: "What we want to know is, how the _law_ looks at this sort of thing."

"Surely it has to be a _crime_?" Marilla asked.

"It _is_ a crime," he said. " _having unlawful and carnal knowledge of a woman by force_ , is how it's written in the law."

The term made Marilla shudder. Matthew looked like he'd had a weight dropped on him. Hearing the legal term made everything suddenly seem so real to them.

"So…now that we _know_ that, what…what are the appropriate steps to take? Are we supposed to hire an attorney to pursue the matter for us? Or do we go straight to the police with it? Should we contact the other family, do _they_ need to admit to something before the law will agree to get involved? Or will the police contact them directly? We just don't have any idea what the next step is…"

"You can retain an attorney, but it isn't absolutely necessary, you can simply go directly to the police. And no, you don't have to involve the other family- the police will be the ones who approach them. …Do you know the circumstances of how this occurred?"

"He attacked her while walking to school," Marilla said, sounding more calm than she felt. "He was waiting for her."

Morgan nodded. "And nothing led up to it?"

"What do you mean?" Marilla asked.

"Was there any previous relationship between them?"

"No," Marilla said. "Why are you asking that?"

"I'm just trying to determine if there was anything that gave him cause to believe he could-" Seeing Marilla and Matthew's face, he clarified, "Please don't think I'm suggesting at all that there is anything justifiable in it. There _isn't_ , of course. But I'm thinking about what the young man may use as a defense. If there is something he could bring up to sway a judge."

"He claims that Anne was speaking badly about his sister- saying she was doing intimate things with their teacher."

"And there's no truth to that," Morgan said, nodding.

"Well- no-" Marilla said. "Anne _did_ say those things to people, but she didn't understand what she was saying. She was just repeating what she'd heard."

He nodded. "Where did she hear these rumors- from another child at school?"

"No, she was the one who _began_ the rumors… Anne was, unfortunately, exposed to quite a few things in her past. And her past three years were with a couple who frequently engaged in intimate relations in rather close proximity to her. A drunken husband, a wife who said too much in front of Anne…both of them being quite vocal in their expressions to each other…" Marilla stopped talking, and shook her head as if wanting to shake all of this away. She went on, "Her understanding of what was involved in the act was slightly muddled, but she does know more than a girl her age should."

He took a deep breath. "How many people have heard these rumors she started?"

"All of the children at school…and many of them told their parents…it spread quite a bit…"

He nodded slowly.

"Have any of those adults- or their children- accused Anne of doing inappropriate things herself? Of being personally involved in sexual behavior?"

"They have," Marilla said, but she was starting to feel attacked. "Morgan, do you feel that Anne deserved this in some way?"

"No!" He said, his eyes looking apologetic. "No, certainly not."

"That's the feeling I'm getting," Marilla said hotly. "From your line of questioning."

Morgan shook his head. "Miss Cuthbert," he looked at Marilla, then Matthew. "Mr. Cuthbert. I am saddened to hear what has happened here. _Truly_ I am. And I have absolutely _no_ judgement for the girl. I am simply trying to understand all the facts. Because everything I'm asking you now, _will_ be asked in the court of law. It's best I understand the backstory here so that I can advise you." Then he took a deep breath. "And I regret to tell you that you can _pursue_ it in the court of law, but…"

"What?"

"It's unlikely that it would result in a conviction."

Marilla looked upset.

Matthew spoke up now, his voice taking on a tone of held-back anger. "Anne didn't make this up. She's telling the truth."

"I _believe_ you, I do," he assured. "But the law is…rather unforgiving when it comes to…the reputation of the alleged victim."

Marilla was angry. "Anne has no reputation!"

"I never said she did," he said, holding his hand up. "But you told me the _whole_ story- about the rumors, witnessing relations, the drunken husband, the allegations of the teacher being inappropriate…There are _others_ in town who might attest to it that she _has_."

"We don't care what they think," Matthew said gruffly.

"And you shouldn't," he agreed. "The law does, though, and others will be brought in to give an account of her character. And…the character and reputation of the boy and his family will also be taken into account."

"What has his _family_ got to do with it?" Marilla asked incredulously.

Morgan Ryland recalled a recent case where the defense council had said in court, _How could the court believe such a woman of the loosest grade and character, when the_ _young man came from a respected and responsible family?_

"What kind of standing the family has in the community is something a judge will often take into consideration." He cleared his throat and continued, "Now, _fortunately_ , the law _no longer_ requires physical _evidence_ -"

" _Physical_ evidence?" Marilla interrupted, sickened. "They would make Anne _show_ that she'd been violated…to the _judge_?"

"They required a doctor's examination," he explained. "Because there had to be proof that she's no longer a virgin."

Marilla wrung her hands, feeling sick.

"The law no longer requires that, it was changed several years ago," he assured them. "So you needn't give it a second thought. But the judge will likely ask Anne to describe what _efforts_ she took to _stop_ the young man- meaning, did she yell out for help? Did she truly do her _best_ to fight him off? They'll want to be sure she made every attempt to protect her virtue. Have you asked her about what effort she took?"

"No, " Marilla bristled, "Nor do I intend to. I'm sure she did the best she could. And if she didn't, well, you know how easy it can be to freeze up in unexpected situations! ...Besides, some degree of compliance may have been her only way to protect herself against further damage- he already sprained her wrist; if she'd fought him any harder she could have ended up with broken bones or been choked or who knows what else."

"Yes, but if she didn't yell out or if she didn't attempt to hit him or fight him off, the judge may feel she wasn't serious about not wanting him to do that to her. ...While of course it's good she didn't get hurt further...defensive wounds show proof that she tried."

He paused, knowing this was bad news: "They'll go through every bit of that in court- they might even go through a list of possible things she could have tried and ask her why she didn't try harder."

Marilla looked upset. Morgan continued, "And this is another part where the witnesses to her character will matter, because the judge will need to know that there was no hint of previous illicit encounters in her past."

"What does anything done in her _past_ , have to do with _now_?" Matthew asked. "Not that she's _had_ any illicit encounters, mind you! But I don't see what anything from _before_ would have to do with what Billy Andrews did to her _now_."

"Because the crime here is that she was interfered with- that something of value was taken from her. If she had relations in her past, that would make the crime less severe, because the young man in question wouldn't have been _the one_ who was responsible for causing her to lose her..." He trailed off, seeing their faces.

He pursed his lips. "It's still wrong, mind you, but a distinction _is_ made."

"So _Anne_ is the one on trial?" Marilla asked, her voice shaking with indignation. "Anne is the one on trial, here. That's what you're _really_ saying, isn't it?"

Morgan looked at her, sorry to give her the facts on a legal system he didn't agree with.

"It would be a trial for the young _man_ , but…" he sighed. "I'm afraid it does _feel_ as though Anne is on trial herself, before any blame could be assigned to the perpetrator."

Matthew sat down, his head in his hands. Marilla began pacing the floor.

Matthew looked up. "Marilla, if we even have a _chance_ of putting that boy away…"

Marilla's eyes were full of angry tears, and her voice shaking, she said:

"I will not have Anne sitting in front of a judge and God knows who else, listening to her character being defamed. Anne's exposure to impropriety was not her fault, but they'll make it out that it was! _I_ did that to her, Matthew, _I_ did! When the other mothers came to me with news of what Anne said about Prissy-" a tear escaped Marilla's eyes "-I _judged_ her for it, deciding _she_ was full of wicked ways, instead of seeing that she was simply a child repeating what had been shown to her- she didn't know any better. It was _naivety_ , plain and simple. Not _wickedness_ , just _naivety_! And _I_ jumped to the conclusion that she was corrupt. _I_ did, Matthew! …And I _love_ her! What will the judge- and anyone else- think about her, then? They don't love her as _we_ do, Matthew, what will _they_ think about her?!"

Matthew got up and held her as she cried.

"It isn't right," Matthew said simply, shaking his head.

Morgan looked uncomfortable. "I…I should go. I'll give you a few days, you just think about it, I'll- I'll do everything I can to help, truly I will. And if you have any questions-"

"No," Matthew said. "Thank you for giving us the information we needed to help us decide. …But no. No, we won't put Anne through that."

He nodded slowly, knowing there were no easy answers here.

"I understand. And I'm sorry, I _wish_ I had better news. It just…is what it is, I'm afraid." He picked up his coat, ready to go.

He turned back at the door, though, and said:

"The laws _have_ changed from what they were even just a few years ago…perhaps they'll _keep_ changing still. …I hope they do. Goodnight, Mr. Cuthbert, Miss Cuthbert."


	154. A Noticeable Absence

They did not go to church that Sunday. Anne did not wake up in time, and they decided not to wake her.

If they had gone, they would have seen that the Andrews family, too, did not attend church that week.

While the news was not spread through the entire town, many people in Avonlea had heard the rumors, and it did not go unnoticed that both families stayed home.


	155. Parenting

When Anne woke up, she saw that it was past time to get up for church, and she got dressed as quickly as she could and ran down the stairs.

But Matthew and Marilla were sitting at the kitchen table, having breakfast casually, not seeming in any rush.

Anne stopped.

"We aren't going to church?" she asked.

Marilla said, "We didn't like to wake you. Come sit down and eat."

Anne slowly went to the table and sat down. She reached for a slice of toast, glad to see it was still hot.

"I'm glad we aren't going," she said glumly. "Everyone will stare at me…I don't think I could bear it."

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other. It was so hard to know what to say to her about any of this.

Marilla moved on from the topic of being stared at. She said carefully, "Anne, we've been thinking, and…we've decided not to pursue this in court."

Anne looked up at her. "You mean…no police?"

Matthew shook his head.

Anne let out her breath, tears coming into her eyes. "I'm _so_ glad."

Then, to make _sure_ , she clarified: "I _don't_ have to talk to a judge? At all?"

"No," Matthew said.

Marilla put in, "We feel that it wouldn't…it wouldn't be necessarily _helpful_ to you…"

Anne looked like a weight had been taken off her shoulders, but Matthew and Marilla only added a weight to their own- they looked at each other, as if both needed the other's reassurance that they were making the right decision for Anne.

Though Marilla was steadfast about not subjecting Anne to a trial, she also felt she must at least allow for the opportunity- not wanting Anne to feel she wasn't given any choice- and said carefully, "Unless you feel that's what you really _want_ to do. It was a crime, you have the _right_ to go to court…"

"No," Anne said loudly, shaking her head. "I'm ever so relieved you won't make me talk to a judge _._ I've been sick with dread over it all night…"

While they were glad Anne seemed relieved, they also worried about whether they were making the right decision. In deciding not to pursue the matter, would Anne later feel that they hadn't taken it seriously? That they hadn't defended her properly?

They were on a journey of finding out what it meant to raise a child- and it was so hard to tell, with children, if you were making the right decisions. It was frightening for them to realize that they could make a decision _now_ and not realize they'd made the wrong one until years later.

But the biggest truth to finding out what it meant to raise a child was learning that all _any_ parent can do is just make the best choices they know how to make, using the information they have available to them at the time, letting their love guide them to do what they feel is best and pray with all their heart that everything would come out right in the end.

Were they doing the right thing? Marilla didn't know.

But Matthew looked into Anne's eyes and said, "The last thing we want is for you to take on any more stress."

And that one thought cemented it for Marilla- they were making the decision they needed to make.


	156. The War of 1812

Sunday afternoon, Gilbert stood on the front porch of Green Gables and knocked on the door. He had brought his War of 1812 notes to church with him, but the Cuthbert's weren't in church. So, despite feeling apprehensive, he made a house call.

Marilla answered. "Hello, Gilbert," she said. "I can let Anne know you're here, but I don't think she'll-"

"I know," Gilbert said. "She told me she'd never speak to me again. And she's pretty determined when she decides on something, so…I don't expect her to change her mind, at least not any time soon."

"But you still told," Marilla commented.

He shrugged. "I'd rather her get help, even if it means losing her." He looked sad for a moment, but then shook his head and spoke up, "We're having a test this week on The War of 1812, and I made a copy of my notes for Anne. I wanted to bring them over to you. Maybe you could give them to her."

Marilla took the papers, looking down at them. But then she said, "Anne won't be in school this week, Gilbert."

Gilbert said, "Oh, I know."

Marilla looked at him questioningly.

Gilbert explained, "She showed me the note from Mr. Phillips- but, well, I didn't want her to miss out on the lesson, even if she can't actually take the test."

"That's kind of you."

Gilbert shrugged. "I thought it might help her to have something else to think about. Good afternoon, Miss Cuthbert."

He stepped off the porch to go.

Marilla had not seen any note from Mr. Phillips, but she called him back. "Gilbert, Mr. Phillip's note isn't really why we're not sending her to school just yet. We need time..." She shook her head firmly, "We can't have her in school with Billy."

Gilbert nodded in agreement, looked solemn. "That's for the best. It's been…It's been hard…"

He said that in such a _knowing_ way that Marilla seemed surprised at the air of familiarity he gave off, and by the expression on her face, Gilbert felt that he had overstepped- that he had sounded as if _he_ thought _he_ were the resident expert on Anne, and that wasn't what he meant at all.

Marilla said, "Uh, Gilbert. We are Anne's family-"

"I'm sorry," Gilbert said quickly. "I didn't mean to sound like I had any business giving an opinion on what's best for her."

"No, actually," Marilla interrupted. "I was just realizing as you stand here in front of me, that…you know more than we do."

Gilbert shook his head. "No, you're her family, I didn't mean to presume-"

"But you see, Anne took you into her confidence," Marilla explained. "You were very important to her for a long time. You still are, even if she doesn't admit it. And you know things that we can't possibly know. So I want to ask you- if there are things we need help with- with her- if we can depend on you. I won't ask you to reveal any more secrets- although if there _are_ any more, I hope you would choose to tell me of your own accord. But if there are questions we have, or…things you think of that might help us understand her, we would be grateful."

Gilbert looked at her, nodding slowly. He said simply, "Anything I can do for her."

Then he took a breath and glanced around. "Well, I won't stick around, I better go- I know she's angry with me. But hopefully she'll accept the history notes even though they're from me. And…I can keep bringing notes, if you want? I'd like to, actually…if that's ok. So she can keep moving ahead. Then, if she's ever able to come back to school, she won't have fallen behind again."

Marilla nodded. "That would be a good thing, I think. Thank you, Gilbert."


	157. School Plans

"I don't see how we can send her to school, now," Marilla said on Sunday evening as Anne was reading upstairs on her bed.

Matthew shook his head. "We can't let her be around that boy."

They sat quietly, feeling helpless.

Matthew thought of something. "Colleges have correspondence courses, I know."

"Yes, but- that's college. I don't know if they have anything like that for younger students," Marilla said. "I can check in the paper- sometimes things like that are listed in the back advertising section…"

But she remembered she'd thrown out the paper. She could wait on next week's…no, she'd have to go into town and get a new one. They couldn't wait another week to develop some plan of what to do.

"Even if there aren't any correspondence courses for young students, she could still do lessons at home, I suppose. Though I certainly don't feel qualified to teach her myself," Marilla said.

"Maybe we could engage a tutor…" Matthew suggested, but as soon as it was out of his mouth, he shook his head.

Marilla nodded, knowingly. "I don't think we can afford to engage a tutor- generally they're learned men from universities and can get quite expensive." Then she said, "I don't like the idea of her sitting alone with a man, anyway. Of course I'd stay nearby. But after what she's been through- and what she knows of Mr. Phillips, well, I'm afraid it might frighten her. How can she learn anything if she's uncomfortable?"

"I'm surprised she's been able to learn anything at all in the past weeks at school," Matthew remarked. "Don't know how she's done it. She's kept perfect grades despite sitting near that boy."

They both felt upset that Anne had had to sit there and endure that.

Then Matthew had an idea: "We could see if she could go to school in another town, if it's allowed."

"In another town?"

"I'd drive her in the mornings in the buggy and come back to pick her up in the afternoons."

"That'd be quite the drive, every day- and twice a day," Marilla commented.

"Well, we can't have her stay here. And we can't let her give up school, either."

"True," Marilla said with a sigh. "It doesn't seem fair, though…"

Matthew agreed, saying gruffly: "I don't like that Billy can drive her out of her school. And he'll keep going there- nothing's changed for him."


	158. Heart to Heart

When Marilla went up to say goodnight to Anne that evening, she brought Gilbert's notes with her.

Anne looked up from her book as Marilla came in.

"What are you reading?" Marilla asked kindly.

Anne help up the cover. "Matthew's bird book."

"I thought you'd finished that," Marilla said.

"I did," she explained. "But I'm reading it again. I want to memorize it."

"The whole book?" Marilla asked, amused.

"Well…as much as I can. Just think of seeing any bird, any bird at all, and knowing everything about it, right off the top of your head. I'd love to do that. …I'm going to memorize the bits about penguins last, I think, since that part is the least useful- or at least, will be useful the least often. I can't imagine penguins coming up very often in conversation."

Marilla smiled. "There's really nothing that doesn't interest you, is there?"

"No," Anne said, "There isn't. I like everything. I would read all day long if I could. Imagine having a library like the one in ancient Alexandria. I read once that it _burned_ , Marilla, and it was such a tragical thing, I _cried!_ I sat there _weeping_ over the book I was reading, just thinking of all that knowledge _lost_ , and lost _forever_!"

"You are so dedicated to reading and learning, Anne, that it would be easy to trust you to learn on your own at home. I'd never need to cajole you into focusing on your books, would I?"

"What do you mean, Marilla?"

Marilla said, "Anne, we think you ought to stay home with us now. We don't want you to have to be around that boy. You've been very brave, going to school with him, all this time. But we don't think it's good for you. Will it upset you if we keep you home- at least until we know what to do about all this?"

Anne pulled Mr. Phillip's note out from underneath her mattress and handed it to Marilla. "I can't go anyway, now. Mr. Phillips doesn't want me there."

 _Ah, so this is the note from Mr. Phillips,_ Marilla thought. She wondered when Anne was going to show it to her. Marilla read it. "When did he give this to you?"

"Friday," Anne said, sitting up in bed. "Mr. Phillips wrote it because he thought I was sick- and that's why I came home- but the real story is that I ran to the privy just to get away from them all. They were all accusing me of doing wicked things and they thought maybe Gilbert was in on it, just because he was helping me, and…"

Anne decided to leave out the part about the baby.

"They waited for me to come out," she said, hugging her knees.

"Oh, no," Marilla breathed, imagining Anne having to come out of the privy and be confronted with all those angry girls. "So you had to come out and face them?"

"No," Anne said. "Gilbert sat there until they went away…eventually the bell rang."

"Oh," Marilla said. "Did he leave when the bell rang too?"

"No," Anne said, wiping her eyes. "No...he stayed."

Marilla nodded.

Then Anne said, "I was afraid he was going to get in trouble for going into the privy with me, but-"

"He was _in_ the privy with you?" Marilla asked.

Anne said, "Please don't be angry, he wasn't _doing_ anything-"

"No, I wasn't," Marilla said. "I was just surprised, that's all. But…as long as nothing _happened_."

Anne shook her head. But then she said, her voice quavering, "He hugged me when I cried…was that wrong?"

Marilla's eyes softened, "No dear. I'm glad you had him there, if he made you feel better."

Anne looked down at her blanket.

Marilla said, "I'm glad Gilbert seemed to be looking out for you at school. It can't have been easy…for either of you."

Anne nodded…but then shook her head, remembering that she had decided never to speak to him again. "I hate him, though," she reminded Marilla.

Marilla nodded. "Yes, I know. But Anne, let me tell you something. I think he held on as long as he could."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't want him to tell, and he respected that, all this time- until it became an emergency, and that's when he told."

"What do you mean, an emergency?"

"It had gotten _out_ … I think you know that part. People were going to be talking, and…and if Gilbert hadn't told me when he did, then I would have heard about it as a rumor."

Anne nodded. "I know."

Marilla said, "He was in town when he overheard that the Andrews planned to come over and tell me falsehoods. ...Gilbert wanted your story told the right way, not full of lies."

She looked into Anne's eyes. "And when he told me, Anne, I could tell that he hated himself for doing it. He didn't want to betray your trust. That was his biggest concern. When he left, he told me that he didn't want to make decisions for you because he didn't want you to feel that he would ever violate you."

Anne said quickly, "I know _that_. I _know_ I can trust him! I _like_ him."

"Oh, do you?" Marilla asked, raising her eyebrows. "I thought you hated him."

Anne sighed. Finally she said, "No, I guess I don't."

Marilla unfolded the notes in her hand and gave them to Anne. "He brought you these this afternoon. I told him we weren't sending you back to school, but he doesn't want you to get behind in your learning."

Anne looked down at the composition book paper, carefully copied by Gilbert in perfect penmanship.

"Did he say anything else?" She finally asked, not looking at Marilla.

"He said 'I'd rather her get help, even if it means losing her'. Mighty sorrowful look in his eyes when he said it, too. But even if you're never going to speak to him again, he took comfort in knowing you had the help you needed."

Anne bit her lip.

Marilla went on, "It's too bad he had to make a choice, though. It would be nice if you could have help _and_ he didn't have to lose you."

Anne lay down in her bed and reached over to turn out her lamp. "Well," she said in the darkness, "I suppose I could think about speaking to him again. He isn't all bad. He's quite nice, really."

Marilla smiled to herself and softly shut the door.


	159. Diana Comes Back

Monday morning Gilbert came to school alone. He set out for Green Gables out of habit, and then realized and turned around. The walk to school felt twice as long as normal, even though it only took him half the time. He missed Anne.

When he got to school, he found that Diana was back. He was glad to see her, but it didn't take long before all the others filled her in on what everyone in school now knew.

Ruby told Diana what had happened on Friday afternoon, when the girls had confronted Anne in the privy about her baby coming and marrying Gilbert when it was really Billy's child.

While Diana already knew about what had happened to Anne, she had never thought about a baby coming from it, and Anne hadn't _said_ anything about a baby, so Diana didn't know what to think. She managed to whisper to Gilbert before school began, "They're saying Anne's having a baby…is she?"

Gilbert didn't say anything for a moment. Then, finally: "Well…we don't know yet. But they seem convinced it's definite. Ruby overheard Anne saying she was upset because if she had a baby then she couldn't get married wearing white. They think Anne and I are getting married because of it."

"Why you?" Diana asked. "Don't they know it was Billy?"

"Yes," Gilbert answered. "But…it was a whole big thing, a big blow-up. Billy admitted in front of everyone that he _did_ do something, but he's denying he forced her- he's got Josie believing that Anne threw herself at him. Anyway, they think I'm marrying her because Billy's abandoned her."

Diana's brow creased with worry. "Is Anne out sick, or…"

"No, her family knows, they're making her stay home. And I'm glad, she shouldn't be here, not with Billy, it's not right…although I wish _he_ would be the one to leave, and she'd come back. It isn't fair to her." Then he sighed. "I don't think she wants to come back to school anyway, now, since she knows everyone here has been told she's having a baby. …She'd be sick over it."

"Poor dear," Diana said. "And I don't know what to do about it..." She looked so upset for Anne.

Gilbert went on, "I wondered if your mother and father had been told about this. If they haven't, they will be soon, I'm sure….Only the girls and Billy knew Friday, but now it's Monday and everyone in school knows. You might want to be thinking about what you're going to say when they ask you about it."

Diana nodded, worried.

Class began.


	160. Team Anne

The Andrews had stayed home from church on Sunday to avoid stares, but Monday morning they sent their children to school just like always.

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had gone back and forth about it before deciding that keeping their children home would make them look guilty.

"After all, Billy didn't do a thing," Mrs. Andrews sniffed. "If we don't send the children to school, people will think he's in some kind of trouble. And he most certainly is _not_."

So Billy and Jane, along with Prissy, arrived at school on Monday, wondering what things would be like for them there.

Not one of them said a word as they made their way to school.

Prissy did not believe her brother had done a thing wrong- she fully believed the story going around that Anne and Gilbert were blaming their baby on Billy- but secretly Prissy was relieved that the attention and scandal would not be on _her_ anymore.

Jane's stomach had been in knots all weekend, and Monday morning was no different. She had said to the others that Anne _wasn't_ lying, but a lot of good that did her. Billy had been angry with Jane for saying that, but he got over it quickly, since no one seemed to pay attention to Jane's insistence that Anne was telling the truth.

Jane tried to ignore the whispering all around her on Monday morning. She'd even seen Gilbert and Diana whispering to each other. …But she knew that Gilbert knew the truth, and maybe Diana did, too. She thought about joining them. Maybe there was something they could all figure out together. She got up to walk over to them, but before she could, Mr. Phillips called them to attention.

"All right, everyone, in your seats now. We'll begin with recitations. Turn to page ninety-three…"

The recitations made Gilbert sad. Anne would have loved the section they were reading today.

They began geography next, but not very many of the students paid much attention to their work that morning, and as soon as Mr. Phillips released them for lunch, the whispering continued. Billy seemed to be somewhat of a celebrity to most of the boys, and it made Gilbert sick.

Jane took a deep breath and went to join Gilbert and Diana, who were sitting by themselves on the boy's side, talking to each other as they ate their lunch.

They both looked up when she came over. Jane swallowed hard, nervous, gripping her lunch basket tightly.

"Hi," she said. "Um…can I sit with you?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said, moving over to make room for her.

Jane had known all along about her brother, and Gilbert now knew this, from what Jane had said as she cried outside the privy. But Diana had no idea.

Gilbert turned to Diana and said simply, "Jane knows, Diana."

Jane said nervously, "Um…I wish there was something I could do…for Anne."

Gilbert nodded. "Did you tell your parents?"

Jane shook her head slowly. "I want to, but…"

" _What?_ " Gilbert said, less kindly than before. If Jane wasn't going to stand up for the truth, then why was she here?

"Jane, all the wishing in the world won't do a thing if you're not going to stand up for her." Gilbert was starting to look disgusted and wished he hadn't made room for Jane at all.

"Well, I…" Jane began. Finally she said quietly, "I _want_ to. I'm _going_ to. I am."

"When?" he said with a hard look.

"Today," Jane promised. "I will. Really."

"Jane, how did you know about this?" Diana asked. "Did Anne tell you?"

Jane shook her head. "Billy admitted it to me...kind of by accident."

"And you've never done anything about it." Gilbert said flatly. On Friday, he'd been more understanding of Jane's predicament, but today he felt less sympathetic.

"I _wanted_ to, I did, _really_ …" Jane insisted, tears coming into her eyes. "I didn't want to think my brother could do something so awful, and…"

"But he did do it, and you knew about it," Gilbert said.

Jane looked like she regretted coming over to sit with them at all.

Diana tried to be kinder to Jane than Gilbert was. "Jane, I understand, it's hard when someone you love does something bad. I'm sure Anne doesn't blame _you_ for anything. But Gilbert is right, you've got to do the right thing and tell your parents the truth."

Jane nodded, wiping her eyes quickly. "I will," she said. "I promise."

"There has to be something we can do to help Anne," Diana said. "But I don't know what we could do."

"Is it true…what everyone's saying, about you and Anne getting married?" Jane asked.

"No," Gilbert said, "Of course not- Anne's too young to get married."

"She's too young to have a baby too," Diana said softly. "What in the world is going to happen to her? My mother wouldn't let me spend any time with her at all after what she said about Prissy. I only _just_ got her to accept Anne again! And now this! Once my mother hears about this I don't know _what_ she'll do. …And if Anne has a baby I'll never be allowed to speak to her again!" Diana looked like she was going to cry.

"Let's not panic," Jane said, sounding stronger than she felt, "Let's be sensible. There's no point in worrying about something that may never happen. It's foolish. I'll tell my parents the truth about Billy, and Diana, you'll have to figure out some way of getting your mother to see that Anne is a good person, and Gilbert, you'll…" She looked at him, then finished, "You'll just do what you've done all along."


	161. The Andrews

While the Andrews children were at school, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews thought it would be a good time to discuss things with the Cuthberts. They did not want their children overhearing any of what Mrs. Andrews referred to as "this torrid affair".

At the same time, Marilla and Matthew decided they couldn't put off their talk with the Andrews any further.

The two families met in the road.

"We were just coming to speak with you," Mrs. Andrews said.

"We were as well," Marilla said.

They did not smile at each other.

There was a brief moment of silence.

"I'm glad to see you finally decided to allow us a moment of your time," Mr. Andrews said dryly. "Should we go on to Green Gables, then, or are you coming round our way?"

"Your house, if you don't mind. We have Anne at home and I don't care for her to hear any of this."

"Oh, you didn't send her to school?" Mrs. Andrews asked, a faint smile playing on her lips. Billy being in school and Anne staying home gave a clear indication of which child was the one causing problems.

"No, we didn't send her," Marilla said, her voice clipped. She had picked up on the brief expression that had crossed Mrs. Andrews face, and she didn't like it.

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews turned their buggy around. The Cuthberts followed in theirs.

Once at the Andrews, they were given a cold invitation to come into the parlor.

While Mr. Andrews was still very angry, Mrs. Andrews had a chance to calm just a bit. She, too, was angry, but she was determined that they would discuss it in a civilized way.

"I could make tea…" Mrs. Andrews suggested awkwardly.

"No, thank you," Marilla said shortly. "This isn't a social call."

Mrs. Andrews nodded. She sat down.

"We would like to know what you're going to do about that child's rumors," Mr. Andrews began. "Our son cannot have his reputation soiled in this manner."

"If I were you, the last thing I would be concerned about is his reputation. I'd be more concerned with his propensity for violence!" Marilla said, incensed within the first minute of this conversation.

"Violence?" Mr. Andrews exclaimed. "Well, I won't say my son has never gotten into any schoolboy scuffles, but that is neither here nor there. We aren't here to discuss playground fights; let's not have things muddled with outside issues."

"We are not without sympathy for you," Mrs. Andrews put in, in an attempt to meet them half way. "It cannot be easy for you to have thought you were being generous benefactors, only to find that the orphan you took in has such…unholy tendencies…"

Marilla bristled. "Unholy tendencies? I don't know what kind of story Billy has been telling you but this is not a situation of unholy tendencies. This is a situation of violent tendencies, and you need to wake up and realize them! Your son attacked Anne. _Attacked_ her!"

"That's what she's telling you?" Mr. Andrews asked in surprise.

"She is _telling_ us the truth," Marilla said. "Though I don't feel any shock at all at your son denying what he did."

"Now wait just a minute, our son did not attack her! He never even touched her. I don't know why she is spreading these rumors, but-"

"Anne has spread no rumors at all," Marilla said hotly. "She hasn't wanted to tell a soul what your son did to her. She's gone to great lengths to hide your son's actions, and he certainly doesn't deserve to be shielded from the consequences of it!"

Mr. Andrews sneered at them. "The consequences of it? Well when that little consequence is born, it surely won't be _our_ son's responsibility. Why don't you tell her she needs to stay with its own father instead of dragging our son's reputation through the mud?"

The Cuthbert's sat staring at them, confusion on their faces.

The Andrews stared back.

"They don't know," Mrs. Andrews slowly realized. "Harmon, they don't _know!"_

"Surely she's made you aware that she's expecting? She hasn't? Well, I can see why you're puzzled. Apparently you only had half the story- that girl is telling you Billy attacked her, but the truth is she's expecting another boy's child and trying to pin it on our son!"

"That's not _possible_!" Marilla said in reproach.

"Why ever not?" Mrs. Andrews asked incredulously.

Marilla was not about to tell the Andrews that Anne had not yet begun her ascent into womanhood at the time of the attack. Anne would die of shame if she knew they'd been discussing her period with the Andrews, and anyway Anne's cycles were most definitely not anyone's business but Anne's. So instead she stated, simply: "Because it _isn't_ possible, that's all there is to it."

"Well perhaps you need to re-examine your ideas of what's possible and what isn't, because that little vixen is fooling you. There seems to be a lot you don't know about her!"

"There is nothing _to_ know," Marilla said sharply, quickly getting ahold of her shock. "I don't know why that sort of rumor is being spread, but it simply isn't true. And Anne is _not_ the one spreading it!"

"She most surely is," Mr. Andrews put in. "One of the girls- I won't say who, I don't wish to drag her good name into this- she heard with her own two ears Anne discussing the baby, saying how it was unfair that she wouldn't get to have a white wedding dress _due to our son_."

Marilla wanted to protest this, but she was reminded of Anne asking recently about wedding gowns and whether the social convention was very _stringent_ on wearing white…

Mrs. Andrews went on: "Girls at school have stated that Anne has been consistently sick in the mornings, just as she would be if she were in the early stages of pregnancy," She stopped and looked at Matthew, "Pardon me, Mr. Cuthbert. Perhaps this isn't a good subject for mixed company. But it simply must be addressed."

Mr. Andrews said to his wife, "There was the thing about the job- didn't one of the girls say Anne was looking for work?"

Mrs. Andrews nodded. "Yes, apparently Anne has been asking about babysitting because she needed to earn money."

Marilla and Matthew sat in stunned silence.

Mr. Andrews continued, "She appears to be planning a wedding with a boy at school."

"Gilbert Blythe," Mrs. Andrews filled in.

"I have it on good authority from one of the other mothers that her intention is to first put the blame on our son in an attempt to extort funds from us, and if that doesn't work, then she will marry the baby's father as a last resort. This is all news to you, isn't it?"

Marilla tried to speak and found she couldn't. Her face was white as a ghost. Matthew had no said one word in all of this, but he found now that he couldn't even if he'd wanted to. His tongue felt frozen.

Mrs. Andrews said quickly, seeing Marilla's face, "Perhaps we should call it a day. You have things to discuss with Anne. We can speak again at a later date."

Matthew and Marilla walked out, not even saying goodbye to the Andrews. They wouldn't have been able to speak if they'd tried. They couldn't even breathe.


	162. No Reassurance

I had to do some research for this chapter. And I found out that surprisingly it actually _is_ possible to get pregnant shortly before you get your first period. I explain later in the chapter. (But don't worry, she is not going to be pregnant).

* * *

Matthew and Marilla slowly climbed into the buggy.

"It can't be," Matthew said. "Can it?"

"Of course not," Marilla said.

"Anne's too young to have a baby," Matthew said.

"Unfortunately her age doesn't rule it out," Marilla said before she even realized she'd said it.

Matthew looked at her, surprised. "Is it possible, even with her being so young?"

Marilla felt worry nagging at her.

She suddenly put her hand on Matthew's arm. "Drive to Dr. Carter's," she said quickly. "I don't. _I don't!_ But I'd feel much better if I spoke to him about it, and quickly."

Matthew moved the horses along faster.

"I hope he's home," Marilla said worriedly. Matthew helped her out of the buggy.

He looked unsure. "Do you want me to…" He did not want to go in.

"No," Marilla said. "Certainly not."

She walked quickly to the door.

"Aah, Miss Cuthbert," Dr. Carter answered pleasantly.

Then he saw her face. "What is it?"

"Anne," Marilla said breathlessly.

Dr. Carter looked behind her at Matthew waiting in the buggy.

"I'll get my bag," he said quickly.

"No," Marilla said, stopping him. "We weren't coming to ask you to…she's at home, but she's fine. At least we _think_ she's fine."

"I…don't follow," Dr. Carter said.

"I must speak to you," Marilla said urgently.

"Come in," Dr. Carter said immediately, opening the door for her.

"I don't know if you've heard any rumors, Dr. Carter, but some things have been said about Anne," Marilla began.

Dr. Carter nodded slowly. "I may have heard a few things." Then he said quickly, "I thought they were just rumors, I didn't believe a word of it, of course."

"About…a baby?"

Dr. Carter nodded.

Marilla breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself.

"We thought any rumors that were going around were rumors of what really happened. We didn't know there were rumors about what _didn't_ happen."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Dr. Carter said. "Please, sit down."

Marilla wrung her hands. "Anne was attacked by a boy at school. Attacked in a…in a most personal nature. She was…" Finally she decided to use the word Gilbert had used, "Violated."

Dr. Carter's face changed from confusion to sadness.

"It was nearly three months ago, and it was the same boy who hurt her wrist."

"My goodness, when I treated her for her wrist I had no idea," he said, shocked. "That poor girl...I wish I had known, Miss Cuthbert. If I'd had...if I'd had any inkling at all, I would have said something..."

"Yes," Marilla told him. "But it seems now there's a rumor that she's expecting, and…well…I wanted to know from _you_ if there's any…if there's _any_ chance, any chance it could be _possible_ …"

"Has she begun having her monthly cycles yet?" He asked.

"She began having her monthlies not long after the attack… Now, I know pregnancy is only possible if a woman had already entered into that phase of life. But with it being so _close_ \- is it possible there's any chance of pregnancy, even though the attack came right _before_ it?"

"Menstrual bleeding occurs when the uterus sheds it's lining. But…ovulation happens in the time just before that."

"Ovulation?" Marilla asked, having never heard this word.

"When an an egg is released," he explained. "Even if those monthly cycles haven't yet begun, it is possible to have released an egg shortly before they begin."

"Oh," Marilla said, not liking where this was going. She had too many thoughts in her head at once.

The doctor went on, "It is rare, Miss Cuthbert. But I won't lie to you and tell you it isn't _possible_. …I can't tell you specifically when an egg would have been released, but it _is_ released sometime _before_ there is any blood flow."

Marilla no longer had the reassurance that Anne couldn't be pregnant just because she hadn't yet started that time of her life.

But then she had another hope:

"…If she's _still_ getting her cycles _now_ , then she surely can't be having a baby, right?" Marilla asked. "I may not have experience with the nature of babies being made, but I _do_ know that you cease to get monthlies during the time you're expecting."

"Right, When an egg is released, if a baby is conceived, it attaches to the uterine wall. If there is no baby, the uterus sheds its lining, causing blood flow. Have you asked her about her cycle since then? Whether she's still gotten one each month?" Dr. Carter questioned.

"No," Marilla said. "Should I have?"

He shook his head. "There's no need for her to discuss every period with you. But you ought to tell her that if she has any questions or if anything seems to be unusual, she can tell you about it."

"Of course," Marilla said. "I told her if she had any questions…" Then she broke off, remembering how Anne had asked, _Are you sure? Are you sure I'm not having a baby?_

Dr. Carter said, "I feel I must warn you, though- if I may be frank, Miss Cuthbert-"

"Of course," Marilla said.

"If you ask her if she's still been having her monthly time, and she says yes….well, she may _think_ she has been."

"How could she think-"

"Sometimes blood spotting happens early during pregnancy."

Marilla's face fell. This wasn't getting better.

"She's rather inexperienced when it comes to all this- having just begun this time of womanhood. …She wouldn't likely know the difference between menstruation and blood spotting from pregnancy. She could have had some blood spotting and assumed it to be her regular cycle."

That did not help Marilla to feel any better.

"Why is there blood spotting during pregnancy?" She asked, feeling faint.

"I'm not sure," Dr. Carter answered honestly. "Sometimes it's nothing, but…"

"What?" Marilla asked, afraid to know.

"Sometimes it's an indication of a miscarriage."

Marilla thought she couldn't feel more worried, but she was wrong. Miscarriage had not entered her mind. Having to help Anne adjust to the idea of having a baby was _unthinkable_ in itself, but what if she was actually successful in getting Anne to feel well adjusted to a baby, only to then _lose_ it?

"On the other hand," Dr. Carter brought up, "If she has missed periods, that doesn't automatically indicate pregnancy. Often young girl's cycles take a while to sort out and fall into a regular pattern. It isn't uncommon to miss a month here and there or for it to be at odd intervals for a while. If she's missed a period now, I wouldn't assume. Her body's still adjusting to it."

Marilla tried to breath. "All right," she said. "So I needn't panic yet."

"I wouldn't," Dr. Carter said comfortingly. "I think it is unlikely she would be expecting. I _would_ inquire about her health, though- try to find out what you can. See if she's had any other symptoms. Would you like me to come talk to her?"

Marilla thought about this. "Perhaps. I'll see what I can get out of her and then I'll ask if she might rather talk to you instead." She shook her head. "Oh my, Dr. Carter, this is more than I planned to take on…"

"I understand," Dr. Carter said, "What happened to her was enough, without the worry of a possible pregnancy. Has she had concerns besides pregnancy? I know, now, that the boy sprained her wrist- did he cause her any other injury?"

"I don't think so…I asked her if she had any pains, but she said…" Marilla cut off, closing her eyes, every emotion hitting her.

"What is it?" Dr. Carter asked.

"She said it didn't hurt _anymore_."

He nodded sadly.

"Miss Cuthbert, if there is _anything_ I can do, please don't hesitate to call upon me."

"Thank you, Dr. Carter."


	163. A Potential Ally

While the Andrews and the Cuthberts were busy discussing Anne's future on Monday afternoon, Ruby was also thinking about Anne's future. She approached Gilbert as school was coming to a close.

"Gilbert, I wanted Anne to decide on invitations today, but she isn't here. Do you want to decide? Or you could take them with you, and you two could look at them together. I don't have the stationary yet, but I wrote them out…"

Gilbert didn't know what she was talking about at first. But then he remembered that he was supposed to be marrying Anne, at least according to the girls.

"Did you tell anyone Anne and I are getting married?" Gilbert asked, wanting to heave a sigh- but holding it in. He was sure he already knew the answer.

"Of course," she said innocently. "I had to ask my mother if we could use the big heavy crystal punch bowl she brings out for parties."

Now Gilbert _did_ sigh. "What did she say?"

"Well at first she said no, we couldn't use it, but then after-"

"Not about the punch bowl, Ruby," Gilbert said tiredly. "About us- me and Anne."

"Oh," Ruby said. "Well, first she asked _why_ you and Anne were planning to get married. I think she thought we were all playing a game, you know, pretending we were having weddings on the playground or something. So I told her about the baby- how _you_ stepped in to marry Anne because _Billy_ wouldn't. She went a bit _mad_ at first and asked how much I _knew_ about what Anne had done with Billy, and I said nothing _at all_ , only that he's left her and Gilbert's going to marry her. Then I _cried_ because she said Anne was ' _entirely_ _unsuitable_ ' for us girls to spend any time with."

Gilbert was sad. It was always Anne's fault; she'd been pinned with a scarlet letter.

Ruby took a big breath. "But then later Josie's mother stopped by, and wasn't she angry! She went into the parlor with my mother- and my mother made me go upstairs, but I was listening from the top of the steps, of course- and they were shouting a bit, but finally Mrs. Pye left."

Gilbert assumed that when Josie's mother told Ruby's mother the false story, she'd accept it. The idea that the two of them had such a strong disagreement interested him.

Ruby went on, "Mrs. Pye told my mother that you and Anne were telling everyone Billy had attacked her because that was her wicked plan to get _money_ from the Andrews. And if that didn't work, then she'd marry you after all, because she'd have to."

Gilbert expected as much.

Then Ruby said something that surprised him. "But the reason they were shouting at each other is that _my_ mother said ' _Gilbert Blythe is a smart, responsible young man. He doesn't have a dishonorable bone in his body; he'd never try to extort money from someone by telling such lies'."_

Gilbert was relieved.

"So then Mrs. Pye said, ' _that girl's got him fooled. My Josie said she's been stringing Gilbert along, making him believe all kinds of lies.'_ …And my mother said she didn't believe _that_ either."

She stopped and then said, "I mean, my mother doesn't really have a firm opinion on Anne, but she couldn't think more highly of _you_ , Gilbert- she knows you don't lie and she knows you aren't a fool to be taken in by lies, either."

"Well, thank you, Ruby."

Ruby said, "So my mother told Josie's mother that if _Gilbert_ said Billy attacked her, then Billy probably _did!"_

"She _believed_ it?" Gilbert asked, hopeful.

"Yes. My mother said there was always something about Billy that she just didn't like. She told _me_ to stay away from him. And she said she wouldn't be surprised a _bit_ if your story was true."

"What then?" Gilbert asked.

"Nothing. Mrs. Pye stormed out, saying that my mother was being a fool. Then I came downstairs, and of course I had to pretend I hadn't been listening in." Ruby finished. "Then, I asked again about the punch bowl."

Gilbert couldn't care less about the punch bowl, but he wanted to know more about what Mrs. Gillis had said. "Is she letting you borrow it, then?"

"Yes, but she said that even though what you're doing is very honorable, Gilbert, you shouldn't have had to do it- she said Billy _ought_ to marry Anne if they're having a baby together! I said to her that Anne _can't_ , because Billy _won't_ , and that's why _you_ were stepping in-"

Gilbert interrupted, "Anne and Billy are not having a baby _together_ ," he said with disgust. "There was no _together_ about it!"

But then something else hit him. "Wait. Really, Ruby-your mother _believes_ Billy attacked her, but she _still_ thinks Anne should marry him anyway?!"

"Well…she doesn't trust Billy, but…she said that he probably wouldn't have done such a thing if Anne hadn't put those ideas in his head."

Gilbert sighed. "I have to give your mother credit- even though she believes it wasn't Anne's fault, she still managed to find a way to turn it into Anne's fault."

Ruby frowned.

Then she told him, "She said it doesn't really matter _who_ marries her as long as _someone_ marries her _before_ that baby arrives!"

Gilbert understood wanting a baby to have two married parents, but he was starting to find it frustrating and ridiculous that the idea of a baby born out of wedlock was so terrible that Anne should have to put up with marrying her attacker or accept a proposal from any random man who took pity on her- or even a not-so-random one who she probably didn't have any feelings for anyway.

Then Ruby looked sad. "But my mother said I can't visit you two, unless she comes with me, because she wants to make sure Anne doesn't talk about any married woman things in front of me."

"Ruby..." Gilbert began wearily; but then he had the thought that if he made it clear he _wasn't_ marrying Anne, then Ruby would happily reassert her claim over him again. Not only was that bad news for him, but it was for Anne too- _he_ had been the source of strife among the girls, leaving Anne an outsider in the group. So instead he said carefully, "Ruby, I think it's nice, you trying to make a pretty wedding and all, but…I think you should take a break. There's no need to rush into anything. We can do all that planning stuff later. All right?"

Ruby looked confused. "But you don't have a lot of time, do you?" She leaned in and whispered, "I don't know when she'll start showing but Josie told me it can't be long now."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You should never listen to Josie...about anything. Anyway, you all _decided_ Anne was having a baby, and-"

" _We_ didn't decide," Ruby said, "I _heard_ you and Anne-"

"Yes, but you didn't hear anything _definite_. You got the wires all crossed: you heard a ' _maybe'_ and you decided it was a ' _yes'_. There might not be any baby at all. So please don't say anything to Anne about it. She really doesn't need to be thinking of that right now."

"Where is she, anyway?" Ruby asked. "Is she sick again?"

"No, she's fine," Gilbert said. "I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"


	164. Reconciled

Gilbert left Ruby and walked to Green Gables to deliver notes to Anne. He knocked on the door, and it was a few minutes before there was an answer.

Anne was surprised to hear a knock at the door. She expected that Matthew and Marilla had their arms full of things- they'd told her they were going into town. She rushed to open the door for them. But instead of seeing the Cuthberts, Gilbert was standing in front of her.

"Oh," escaped from her, as she stopped short, startled.

"…Hi," he said breathlessly. He hadn't expected Anne to be the one to answer the door when he knocked.

"Um…" Then suddenly she was very aware of the fact that she'd never gotten out of her nightgown, and she shut the door in his face.

Gilbert sighed, turning away. He looked at the porch.

The snow was melting and the Cuthbert's porch roof was leaking. He began looking for a spot he could leave the school notes where they wouldn't get wet.

But a moment later the door opened again and Anne was standing there, now with her robe wrapped around her. "What do you want?"

"Oh, you're back," Gilbert said, surprised. "I thought…"

"What?" she asked.

"I thought you shut the door because you were mad at me"

She looked at him as if he was dumbly missing the obvious. "I'm in my nightgown," she said. "I had to get something on."

"Oh, right," Gilbert realized.

Then neither said anything.

"You can't come in," she told him, crossing her arms. "Matthew and Marilla aren't here."

She knew Marilla would not approve of a girl having a boy in while no one was home. But considering the circumstances of her relationship with Gilbert, she didn't actually think Marilla would mind if she invited _Gilbert_ in. …But she didn't want him there.

"That's okay," he said quickly, "I wasn't going to ask if I could come in-"

"Why are you here?" Anne interrupted, knowing she sounded a bit cold. She tried to remind herself that she did not, in fact, hate him, even though she'd said she did.

"School notes," he said, holding them out to her. "I don't know if Miss Cuthbert gave you the other ones, but I brought some before-"

"She did," Anne said.

Then finally she said, "Thank you." She reached out and took the new ones from him.

She stood there in the doorway looking at the notes.

Gilbert said, "I just…didn't want you to get behind in school, but I meant to leave them with Mr. or Miss Cuthbert…I wouldn't have come if I'd known they weren't home."

"That's all right," Anne said.

"Well," Gilbert said. "I'll go now."

He began to turn away.

"Gilbert, wait," Anne said.

Gilbert came back.

She didn't want him to leave so quickly…but she didn't know what to say to him. "Um…how are things going? At school?" She asked awkwardly.

"Oh, fine, fine," he said. "Just normal stuff."

"Is anyone…"

"What?"

"…talking about me?"

Gilbert hesitated. He couldn't lie to her, but he also didn't want to make things worse for her, either, by telling her that _yes_ , everyone _was_ talking about her.

"Uh…." he began.

 _Ruby_ , he thought. _Ruby might be safe territory. Ruby was okay with Anne now._

He said, "Ruby is busy planning our wedding, so there's that."

"She's planning…our wedding?" Anne asked. "When I left on Friday she and Josie were mad at both of us. She said I was tricking you into marrying me and that I'd sunk my cows into you."

"I know."

Anne said, "And she begged you not to marry me."

"I know, but surprisingly she's had a change of heart and decided to give me up."

"For me?" Anne asked. "Huh. All this time she was mad at me because I might be _friends_ with you. Now she thinks we're getting married- and she's _okay_ with that?" She shook her head, bewildered. "This is…bizarre. I mean, I'm glad, I guess? But…I never imagined _Ruby_ …"

Gilbert smiled. "She thinks she's being very noble by giving me up. You should see her, too- it would be funny if it didn't involve something bad happening to you. She holds her head up and puts on this brave face while she tells me how beautiful she's going to make things for us."

Then he remembered, "Oh, she made out invitations. I have them with me, actually."

Anne took them, looking them over.

"She asked if I wanted to choose them myself since you weren't there, but of course I brought them to you- how could I make such an important decision without your input?"

He smiled when Anne laughed.

"She planned for the girls to carry pink roses down the aisle. She said you like pink roses."

"I do," Anne said. "I'm surprised she remembered that..."

"And she's arranged to use her mother's big crystal punch bowl."

Anne's face changed. "Wait- she told her mother about us getting married and having a baby and everything?"

Gilbert nodded slowly. _Uh oh…I may have messed this up._

"I _knew_ everyone was going home to tell their parents that I'm having a baby and we're getting married- Josie promised to tell everyone in the world _that_ story! …But I was hoping none of adults would _believe_ it."

Anne looked like she could cry at any moment, and Gilbert wished he hadn't brought up Ruby at all.

"But Anne, Mrs. Gillis believes the part about Billy! She said she's never trusted him and she wouldn't be surprised at all if he did do something bad like this."

Gilbert chose to leave out the part about how Mrs. Gillis said that Billy _might_ not have done that to Anne if Anne hadn't first put those ideas in his head. He decided that part wasn't important. The only _important_ part was that ultimately she _did_ believe Billy had attacked Anne.

Anne was shocked someone believed her, especially one of the girl's mothers. "How'd you know that? Did Ruby tell you?"

"Yeah, she said that when Josie's mother came over to tell her the fake story- the story about us having a baby ourselves and blaming it on Billy to get money out of his parents- Mrs. Gillis didn't buy that! In fact, Ruby said the two yelled at each other over it."

"Really?" Anne asked. Although she wasn't happy to hear of any discord among anyone, she felt very flattered that Mrs. Gillis would believe her story over Mrs. Pye, whom she'd known for much longer.

She let the feeling sink in for a moment- the feeling of knowing there was another person who believed her.

Then Anne sighed, saying, "I hate that anyone had to find out…I am awfully glad Mrs. Gillis doesn't think I'm lying, though! I'm sure everyone else does."

She thought a moment. "But Ruby's just being silly planning a wedding…why would Mrs. Gillis take her seriously?"

After a moment her face changed. "She thinks I _have_ to get married…to someone, to _anyone_ , just so the baby isn't illegitimate." She looked upset. "That's what she thinks, isn't it?"

Gilbert tried to make it sound like no big deal. "Who cares what she thinks about all that? The main thing is she's on your side- she believes Billy attacked you. That's what really matters, isn't it? She'll forget about all that getting married stuff once she sees you're not having a baby."

Anne shook her head, suddenly looking like what she might cry.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, his heart thudding.

Anne just shook her head again.

"Anne- do you know something?" He asked.

Anne wiped her eyes. "No, I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about it!"

Gilbert tried to sound reassuring. "There's not going to be a baby," he said. "And on the off chance there is, it doesn't mean anything- it doesn't mean you have get married or do anything else you don't want to do."

The feeling of almost crying went away and she took a steady breath, feeling angry now. "But then if I'm an unwed mother, everyone will be even meaner to me than they already are." She shook her head. "I can't win, no matter what I do."

"Well, if you really have to get married, you won't have to plan a thing- Ruby'll have everything all arranged."

Anne smiled at that. "Poor Ruby," she said with a good-natured roll of her eyes.

Gilbert went on, "Ruby is so silly, but I think she has a good heart. Josie manipulates her."

Anne nodded. "I think so, too."

"Well, I should go. But don't worry about anything. After all, we have invitations and pink roses _and_ a big crystal punch bowl- Aren't we lucky?"

Anne laughed.

Gilbert smiled at her and started to leave.

"Wait, Gilbert," Anne said quickly.

"Yes?"

She took a breath. "I'm…I'm sorry. About…about getting mad at you."

He shook his head, looking remorseful. " _I'm_ sorry, Anne. I wouldn't have done it if there was any other way…it just got to be too late; I had to get to her before the Andrews did."

"I know," she said.

He told her, "I _am_ sorry, though. I never wanted to do that to you. _Really_. I hope you know that."

She nodded.

They looked into each other's eyes.

Gilbert said, smiling, "I'm glad you're talking to me…I thought you'd never speak to me again. And I wouldn't have blamed you a bit if you hadn't."

Anne blushed, remembering that she'd told Marilla those exact words _. No,_ _I hate him- I'll never speak to him again!_

She told him, "Well…you're all right."

"Thanks," he said with a laugh.

She smiled at him, biting her lip. "Okay…well, um…thanks for bringing the notes."

"No problem. I'll bring others, too," he said.

He stepped off the porch. "I'm glad I can say 'see you later' instead of saying goodbye."

She nodded, confirming that, and he smiled.

"Later, then," she said, and she watched him walk away, until he grew so small he disappeared.


	165. In Gilbert's Thoughts

Gilbert's walk home was happier than his walk to Green Gables had been. Anne was talking to him again. And best of all, she'd forgiven him. Despite all the troubles still ahead, everything was better because he was back in her good graces.

He wondered what the future held, though, and as he walked home, his mind was full of thoughts: _Will she come back to school?_ _ **Can**_ _she come back? Billy's still there…how can they both be at school at the same time?_

 _Of course they've been at school together for weeks,_ he realized. _But now that things are_ _ **out**_ _, how is she supposed to face him every day?_

 _It's not fair…Billy should be the one to leave, not Anne._

Gilbert's jaw clenched, as it did whenever Billy was in his thoughts.

And he wondered: _If she can't come back to school because she can't face Billy, then what'll she do?_

He knew how much value she placed on getting an education.

 _She said she wanted to be a teacher…this_ _ **can't**_ _be the end of school for her._

 _I hope the Board of Education will be quick about answering my letter…I'd feel better if I knew whether a person can still sit for matriculation exams even if they can't actually attend school…at least then I'd know if she has other options available to her._

 _And-_ he thought with a sinking feeling- _avoiding Billy isn't the only reason she can't come back to school…_

He remembered what Anne had said a few weeks ago when they'd sat at his kitchen table trying to come up with a plan: " _It's nice; you trying to make it all work out…but I don't think they let a girl whose had a baby just go back to school as if nothing's happened…"_

He kept telling her there was no baby, but standing on the Cuthbert's front porch she'd nearly cried saying she had a bad feeling about it.

The truth was, Gilbert himself was struggling to keep in mind that the baby wasn't _definite_ : For some reason he'd gotten it into his head that Anne _was_ having a baby, probably because everyone around him kept repeating it as if it were fact.

 _We don't know anything yet,_ he reminded himself. _And…and if there is, it won't matter…it'll be okay._

 _Mr. and Miss Cuthbert know what happened now._

 _They'll understand._

 _They're not going to blame her if one does come._

 _They'll help her get everything she'll need for it._

 _And Anne knows how to take care of babies…she's got lots of experience there._

He took a deep breath.

 _Everything will be ok,_ he repeated. He shook his head, knowing how ridiculous that sounded, but he had to tell himself that anyway.

And that's what he'd have to tell her, too.

He walked on through the snow.

He really wished everyone would forget about all this marriage talk. He didn't expect Ruby to, of course- she was having too much fun planning weddings- and probably even more fun considering herself to be noble and sacrificial- but he _hated_ that Ruby had said of her mother: _She said that it doesn't really matter who marries her, as long as someone marries her before that baby arrives!_

Would other people in town feel that way too? Would they truly be as horrible to her as Anne feared they would?

The idea of her having to marry Billy was _unthinkable_ \- and he knew that no matter how much social pressure there was, the Cuthbert's would never allow it- _thank heaven_ \- but Gilbert thought it was ridiculous that Anne should be pushed into marriage with _any_ boy at this point in her life.

And he didn't even mean her young age- although of course that was part of it, too.

But _really_ \- he thought, shaking his head- _pushing marriage on a girl who's been violently attacked seems…cruel. She's just had an unimaginable encounter with a boy, but now people expect her to enter into a lifetime commitment with one, to live alone together, to share a bed? No, it's…it's asinine to put that kind of expectation on her._

 _Marriage is forever_ , he thought. _And right after you've gone through an emotional ordeal is a terrible time to have to make decisions about_ _ **forever**_ _._

 _Anyway,_ he thought, _I don't see the point of marriage to save your reputation, either. If a girl of only thirteen marries quickly and delivers a baby only six months later, everyone's going to_ _ **know**_ _that baby was out of wedlock. So isn't it really just an "open secret"?_

… _Yet I know the townsfolk will all just smile and nod and pretend everything was on the up and up- and then they'll all whisper about her behind closed doors…_

The falseness of it all made Gilbert sick.

He shook his head to himself. _When it comes to saving her reputation, Anne hasn't done anything wrong_. _**She**_ _didn't soil her reputation- someone else did._

So the best thing for a young girl in her situation was to stay with her parents, for them to shelter her and help her grow up- she was still a child herself- and make sure she still got an education despite having a baby.

And then someday, when she felt ready to think about marriage, she would.

But he'd let people think what they want. _Who cares if people think we're getting married? If it makes them feel less badly toward Anne, then fine._

He walked on a ways, his mind clear and his feelings settled.

But then a terrible thought occurred to him.

Sometimes women died in childbirth.

Grown up women. Strong, healthy women.

His own mother hadn't made it through his birth.

Anne was so young.

What if she couldn't take it and something happened to her?

He began to feel panic rising in his chest. _Maybe…maybe they can take her somewhere…they could find out where the very best doctors are…in the city…and she could deliver the baby in a hospital instead of at home…_

He tried to convince himself that if she went to a hospital then nothing bad could happen to her.

But he knew the risks, and they far outweighed any reassurances he could give himself.

He thought of Billy. _If you force yourself on a girl against her will and then she dies delivering your baby…you ought to be charged with murder_.

 _I'd kill him_.

The thought pushed its way into Gilbert's mind.

 _I'd play judge, jury, and executioner all by myself. I'd kill him with my bare hands and I wouldn't even think twice about it._


	166. What May Come

Someone from the diaconate board had visited. Gilbert knew as soon as he'd stepped through the door, because there was a bright bouquet of flowers on the table in the parlor and a hot casserole ready to eat on the kitchen table. Gilbert greeted his dad, asking, as always, if he needed anything, and then washed up for supper.

He and his dad sat down together- a rather lonely pair- and after praying briefly over the food, they began to eat. Gilbert asked about his dad's visit, but he wasn't fully listening. …He'd only just left Anne and he already missed her. He wished she was here, sitting across the table eating the lumpy green bean and ham casserole with him.

His dad talked through most of dinner, telling Gilbert the news he'd heard during his visit- well, all of the news except for _one_ thing he'd heard from his visitors- but Gilbert was quiet, his mind in another time. As they were finishing up dinner, Gilbert said suddenly, "Hey dad, let's have pancakes in the morning." Pancakes would make him feel like Anne was here again.

His dad watched him carefully. "With confectioner's sugar?" he asked, more to that question than met the eye.

"Oh, no, I only got that out for Anne. I'm fine with butter and syrup."

Gilbert smiled to himself- a small, private smile meant for no one to see, his eyes sparkling in a way that they never did unless Anne was in his thoughts.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" his dad asked him.

"What?" Gilbert asked, coming back to earth.

"Anne."

"Oh, no, I just-"

"Son," he said. "I know you too well."

Gilbert blushed and looked down. "She's just a friend, dad."

"So you keep saying," Mr. Blythe commented with a bit of a smile.

"She _is_ ," Gilbert said a bit defensively, picking up their plates to take to the sink.

"Let's go sit in the parlor and have a chat, why don't we." His dad said. It was not a question.

Gilbert had a feeling he was somehow in trouble, even though he was never really in trouble and hadn't been for years. He was too grown up to get into schoolboy scrapes, and he always kept his word.

He settled into the parlor and nervously waited for whatever it was his dad wanted to say.

But his father began coughing and it was several tense minutes before he could speak again. Gilbert did what he could and tried to push down that dreadful feeling he got whenever he was reminded again of his father's frail health. When Gilbert got his father a glass of water, he noticed blood on the handkerchief his father had covered his mouth with. He turned away, upset, and went to stir the fire, as if making the room warmer could somehow fix anything.

Eventually he sat down again, his father next to him on the sofa, and Gilbert found himself longing to be young again- just so he could be back in those innocent days in which a child believes that his father is the strongest man in the world.

But his father was thinking of the future, not the past. It was a long moment before he spoke. And then:

"There are things I'd have told you about life, son. About marriage and family. The kind of advice a father ought to give his son when he's found the right girl and is ready to settle down and start a life with her. If you were twenty or so…well, I'd have saved these words for then. If I had those days… But I don't have those days. _These_ are the days I have, so I need to use them."

"Dad, you'll be here when I-"

"No, Gilbert. I won't. You know it and I know it. And wishing it wasn't so won't change it."

Gilbert found he could not argue. His father's usually cheerful face, full of optimism, full of teasing- was gone, and in its place was a somber look that told Gilbert to let go of the brave face he always wore. It was time to be honest with each other.

"I see the way you change when you talk about that girl. If you were any other boy I'd say it was just puppy love- girls come and go. But you've never been one for foolishness. You went from being a little boy to being a man in the blink of an eye, and I'm at fault for you growing up too fast. All my troubles have made you far older than fifteen."

He took a look at Gilbert before going on.

"Sometimes- if you're lucky and if God is smiling on you at just the right moment- your path crosses with a person who awakens new and undiscovered things in your heart. And when that person loves you back, well…it's a kind of miracle."

Gilbert thought about that.

"It doesn't happen easily, and it doesn't happen for everyone. If you're one of the lucky ones, hold on to it. If I were well, I'd have told you not to rush. But I see now how short this time on earth really is. So if you've found that love when you're still so young, son…it only gives you more time together."

Gilbert felt his face growing warm. He couldn't put his feelings into words, but he was relieved somehow, to be given his father's blessing without ever having had to ask for it.

"I've been one of the lucky ones, really. I've been blessed with love twice in a lifetime- once with the woman I married, and once with the woman I thought I'd marry."

"The woman you _thought_ you'd marry-"

"Well, that's a story for another time. But suffice it to say that I know what love looks like, _and_ I know what unrequited love looks like. If you think you love her- and I think you do- then don't miss a moment, because you don't want to spend years looking back on what you could have had."

Gilbert breathed out slowly.

"Honestly, son- tell me how you feel about her."

Gilbert found a strange, ethereal laugh escaping from him and before he knew he was admitting it, he said, "She's all I think about, dad."

Then, after a moment, he went on: "And she doesn't see it- she doesn't see herself the way I see her. She thinks I'm just being _nice_ , or…or that I only became her friend because of…because of something bad that happened to her. But it's not true. If it had never happened to her I'd have gone to school and met her on the way, or maybe I wouldn't have met her till we were already at school, but I'd feel exactly the same as I do now- I _know_ I would. I'd probably be acting like a fool begging for her to notice me." He laughed. "And she'd see right through my vain attempts at getting her attention and she'd make me work to win her over…but we'd have been friends no matter what, I'm sure of it. …Maybe that's _all_ we'd ever be, but I'd still be thinking about her every minute."

And in his mind he thought, _In every universe, in every lifetime, I'd be thinking of her._

His father interrupted his thoughts, saying, "When I was visited today, we had an odd conversation. It seems there's talk in town about you and Anne having a child together and Anne trying to extort money by blaming it on the Andrews' son."

Gilbert breathed out slowly.

His dad went on, "You told me just now that something bad had happened to Anne, so I expect it has to do with all of that?"

Gilbert said quickly, "Yes, but dad, it isn't true."

"I never thought it was, son."

The fire crackled, the only noise in a quiet room as Gilbert thought about what to say. His father didn't press him, just letting him have the time he needed.

He finally began to talk, shifting, moving one leg underneath him. "The first day I went back to school, I found Anne lying on the ground in the woods looking like she'd been in a fight. Billy Andrews was with her, and I thought he'd beaten her. But…that's not what he did to her."

He found himself almost afraid to look at his father's face, but when he did, he saw that his father didn't need to be told- he'd come to the conclusion on his own.

Gilbert nodded to himself before going on. "She wanted it kept a secret. So I never told anyone. Until I _had_ to- I had to tell her family because the news had gotten out and the Andrews were going to confront the Cuthberts. …I couldn't let them be blindsided by it."

His father nodded.

"They've all got this fake story- Josie Pye at school spread it- that the baby isn't Billy's; that Anne is blaming him in hopes of getting money from the Andrews." He took a breath. "And I'm part of the story because Anne and I have spent so much time together- it was just all too easy for Josie to put two and two together."

Mr. Blythe nodded. "I see. So the Cuthberts know what really happened, now?"

"Yes, I told them, even though it wasn't what she wanted." He took a shaky breath, feeling both guilt and doubt overtake him. He looked up at his father's face, needing guidance. "Telling her secret felt wrong. But keeping it felt wrong, too. Did I do the right thing, dad?

"I don't know that there _was_ a right thing," his father said slowly. "If I were Anne's father, I would have wanted you to tell me, no question about that. …But if I were in Anne's shoes, I suppose I wouldn't have. And I can see why you didn't."

That didn't help.

"What would _you_ have done, dad?"

"Probably the same thing you did."

"Really?"

He nodded, tousling Gilbert's hair the way he used to.

Gilbert smiled.

They were quiet a moment.

Then Gilbert began, "What you said about…about when you find someone…and you love her…about not wasting time…"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to waste time. Every minute I'm not with her _feels_ like a waste of time! I wish…"

He stopped talking then- he could hardly believe he was even _thinking_ about the future this way- and he shook his head. "Well, no matter _what_ I want, I _can't_ be more to her. She _trusts_ me- I can't let her think I'm only spending time with her because I'm angling for more."

His father nodded slowly.

Gilbert sighed. "So I'll just be her friend."

His father nodded. "But that's still a good thing- to be her friend."

"Yeah, it is," Gilbert said, but he felt sad.

Finally he said, "Dad, sometimes she thinks I'm only her friend because I feel sorry for her, and that's not true. But then…maybe she has a point- she and I have been together out of _necessity_ \- that isn't a very good foundation for a _future_ , is it? We've had more bad times together than good."

"Marriage isn't about being happy," Mr. Blythe said bluntly.

Gilbert looked over at him, surprised.

His father explained, "They _begin_ by being happy. You love her. She loves you. You live in a state of utopia- for a little while, anyway. But marriage is more than falling in love. There's worry…strife…heartbreak. It's about how you get through those things."

He waited for his dad to go on.

"You've _done_ that, son. You've shown her that you can handle the bad stuff _just_ as well as the good stuff. It would have been easy for you to back out, and there were times she _expected_ you to. But you didn't. You've been by her side and you refused to leave her even when it got tough. You promised her that the two of you would get through it _together_. And that's what marriage is all about."

That made Gilbert feel better. Maybe they could have a future, after all.

Someday.

His dad smiled, drawing Gilbert close to him. "The only thing left for me to want is your happiness. I won't be around forever. I'd like to imagine you settled into the life you ought to have- someone to love, family surrounding you again… And I think as long as you're honest with yourself about how you feel, everything will turn out all right."

Gilbert tried to memorize the way it felt to have his father by his side; in all the years to come he'd have to rely on that memory.

After a few minutes Gilbert thought of something. Not sure it had been made _clear_ , he said, "There's no baby."

"No?"

"Well…at least, right now there isn't. I guess we won't know for sure for a while."

His father nodded.

"How do you two feel about that?"

Gilbert felt surprise at he and Anne being lumped together in that question, but found that it sounded right to him.

He answered, "Anne's got a bad feeling. …I don't know what to think."

Then he said, "I wrote to the school board. To ask if Anne could still take graduation exams, even if she has to quit school. But they haven't answered yet."

"That's nice you thought of that."

Gilbert shrugged. "Seems like a drop in a bucket, with all there is to worry about."

"She'll be glad to know, though."

They were quiet again until Gilbert said, "People judge her so harshly. If there's a baby…Anne's stood up to criticism all her life; this isn't new for her. I just hate for it to get worse."

"Having you has made it better."

At that, Gilbert found his eyes suddenly wet, and he looked away.

"Son?"

Gilbert took a shuddery breath. "Today when I was walking home, I thought…I thought about my mother. About the way she-"

Gilbert didn't finish that sentence. He couldn't.

John put one arm out, circling around his son, holding him like a child, murmuring: "Nothing like that is going to happen to Anne."

He hadn't seen Gilbert cry so hard in a very long time.

Hearing _everything will be all right_ did not help.

But hearing _everything will be all right_ from his father, did.


	167. A Cuthbert Baby

Gilbert's trip to Green Gables, his walk home, and his long talk with his father about his feelings for Anne all happened while the Cuthberts' were busy meeting with the Andrews and their subsequent doctor's visit.

As they rode home to Green Gables in their buggy, Marilla longed stop at Rachel Lynde's house and unburden herself to her friend, but she decided- unhappily- that she could not confide in Rachel...at least not _yet_. First, she just never knew what things went into Rachel's ears that would come out of her mouth. She would _like_ to believe that Rachel would realize how serious this was and not let it slip, and in all likelihood, she _could_ trust Rachel- but she didn't feel she could take that risk, no matter how slight. ...Marilla realized her loyalty had to be with her child, now, and that meant she could not reveal Anne's personal worries to anyone she chose.

They drove in silence.

"Was Dr. Carter of any help?" Matthew finally asked, after Marilla had been quiet for far too long.

"No."

Then she breathed. "Well, not _no_. He gave me all the information I asked for, and then some. But no, he was not of help."

Matthew was quiet.

"Oh, Matthew. I don't know what to think. He said we can't be _sure_. We're just going to have to _wait_. I can't imagine how we'll wait for something like that!" She felt so overwhelmed.

"I don't know how _she's_ been waiting," Matthew pointed out. "She's known much longer than us, and she's been waiting all this time."

Marilla had not thought of that.

When they got home, Matthew decided to stay out of the way so Marilla could broach the subject with Anne. He went quickly down to the cellar to work on a few things while they talked.

"Where did you go?" Anne asked, coming down the stairs after she heard the front door opening. "I thought you went to town, but you didn't, did you? Where's Matthew?"

"He's down in the cellar. He had a few things to finish in the house, now that nothing outside needs doing. And no, we...we went to speak to the Andrews."

Anne froze. "Why?"

Marilla said, "We'll _have_ to be in communication with them, Anne. Until we know what we're all going to do about this."

"What do you mean, what to _do_ about it?" Anne asked, pleadingly. "You already said you wouldn't make me talk to the police!"

"Yes, but there are other considerations," Marilla said, hanging up her hat.

"Like what?" Anne asked, angry.

"Well...like you going back to school," Marilla said. "And some other things. But Anne, let us worry about that."

She took a look at Anne, and changing the subject, she said, "I'm glad to see you've gotten dressed. No more staying in your nightgown all day- just because you're staying home doesn't mean you don't have to wake up and face the day!"

Anne felt put out. "I haven't been staying in my nightgown all day- I only have while I've been reading in bed."

"Which you've been doing all day, every day."

"You wanted me to learn at home, didn't you?" Anne asked, her tone just a tad impertinent.

"Yes, but not lying in bed all day. You must start getting up in the mornings and getting dressed just as you would if you were going to school. No more late mornings."

Then Marilla noticed the papers on the table. "Oh, did Gilbert come by with more notes?"

Anne blushed for some reason. "Yes. I didn't let him in, because he's a boy and you weren't home with me."

"Well, that was considerate of you. I think in Gilbert's case, though, it might be all right."

"Oh, good," Anne said. "Then next time I'll let him in no matter what."

"Next time?" Marilla asked, raising her eyebrows, bemused. "So you want him to come back?"

Anne hated to go back on her word. She reluctantly admitted, "Well, he isn't a bad person, really."

"No, I don't think he is, either." Marilla said, hiding a smile. "All's been forgiven and forgotten, then?"

"Yes," Anne said. "Gilbert's my friend again. I guess he never really stopped being my friend."

Marilla waited for Anne to say more, but she didn't. Anne's cheeks were pink.

"I have an idea," Marilla said. "You weren't able to take the test that was given on the War of 1812, but we ought to ask Gilbert to bring _his_ test over to you, after Mr. Phillips hands them back. We could read off the questions to you and see how well you do."

"Gilbert took _perfect_ notes on it," Anne said. "Oh! Marilla! That reminds me! I was going to tell you last night and I forgot! There was something about the War of 1812 in one of your old books!"

"Really?"

"Yes! I was excited to find it, because of everybody learning about it at school! Hold on and I'll get it!" Anne scurried up the stairs to get the book from her room.

While Anne was gone, Marilla looked over the new notes Gilbert had brought. The last page, though, wasn't anything to do with school, and it wasn't in the same handwriting as the other notes. It was a sheet of paper with...Marilla's face changed. _This is a draft of a wedding invitation_ , she realized. _Why didn't Gilbert say anything about this part of things?_

She quickly pushed the paper back underneath the others as Anne clattered down the stairs, book in hand.

Anne opened the book and breathlessly told Marilla all about what she'd read, pointing out various bits of the book.

Marilla only pretended to listen. She didn't know what to do. Finally she decided to let the issue of marriage fall by the wayside for the moment, and focus only on the issue of the baby. The topic of marriage would come up eventually.

"Anne, let's go sit in the parlor. You can tell me more about what you've read in there."

"All right," Anne said, and continued chattering as they went in and sat down.

"The fire feels good, doesn't it?" Marilla finally said, when Anne had taken enough of a breath that she could get a word in.

"It does!" Anne said, leaning closer to enjoy it. "Sitting by a fire always makes me think of being in between the seasons." She closed her eyes, feeling the heat on her face. "I have summer on my face, and winter at my back."

Since Anne seemed to have reached the end of her speech, Marilla finally broached, "You know, Anne, I wondered if there was anything you were concerned about in terms of your health, or anything physical, as a result of what was done to you."

Anne shook her head. "No, I don't know what you mean."

Marilla tried to look at Anne's face, but Anne turned away from the fire, her face now in the shadows.

Marilla said, "Oh, I mean just anything. Anything at all."

Anne didn't respond.

Marilla tried again: "There are things that happen sometimes as a result of having intimate relations."

Anne was still quiet, not looking at Marilla.

"And of course, you didn't _have_ intimate relations, not _really_ ," Marilla said, "Intimate relations were...done _to_ you. But, either way, there are things that can _result_ from it..."

Anne was silent a moment, the she spoke timidly- haltingly- little by little- her voice flat: "The girls think...that I'm...having a baby."

Even though Marilla had heard the Andrews say this rumor, there was something so much more real about hearing it from Anne herself, and Marilla's heart could have jumped out of her body, but she fought to keep her expression blank and her tone neutral.

 _Do not react._

 _Do Not React._

 _Do. Not. React._

"Oh, do they?" she asked, sounding exactly the same as if she was asking Anne what the girls thought the weather would be.

Anne was surprised- and _relieved_ \- by Marilla's lack of particular interest.

 _She isn't angry,_ she thought. _She acts like she doesn't even care._

This made Anne feel a bit more relaxed.

"Well, they think I am," she continued slowly. "And...they think that it's going to start showing soon...and that I won't be able to hide it much longer..."

Anne finally snuck a glance at Marilla, hoping Marilla didn't see.

But Marilla _had_ seen the quick, breathless little look Anne gave her.

Marilla reminded herself again- though her chest felt like it was heaving- that she must be ever so careful to act as if nothing about this bothered her at all.

"Well," Marilla said, trying to sound very casual, "It's been about ten or eleven weeks now, I'm sure it won't be too much longer before you'll know, and then you won't have to keep wondering about it."

Marilla leaned down to her knitting basket and picked up what she was currently working on, hoping that the movement of knitting would mask the fact that her hands were shaking.

Anne nodded, watching Marilla begin to knit. She was surprised at how Marilla was taking this.

Marilla's heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears, but she just began rocking in her rocking chair and looked down at her knitting, saying, "My, I haven't had a chance to sit down and work on my knitting at all, lately! I ought to make more time for it. Especially if we're going to have a baby around the house. We'll need to do lots of knitting then, won't we?"

Anne was just staring at her. "You're not..."

"What, dear?"

"Angry?" Anne whispered.

"Certainly not," Marilla said, feigning a lack of concern. "Why would I be?"

Marilla's calmness made Anne feel she could be close to her. She got up and moved to Marilla's side, sitting on the rug next to the rocker. "Because I've made a problem for you," she said fearfully.

"A baby isn't a problem for us, not at all," Marilla said, hoping her voice sounded natural. "I'm sorry for you, of course, having one when you didn't want one. But it isn't a bit of trouble for us. Why, it might even be fun."

"You think it could be fun?" Anne asked hopefully, leaning into Marilla. She _wanted_ to climb into Marilla's lap and be held like a baby herself, but she didn't. She just leaned into her further, resting her head on Marilla's skirt.

Finally Marilla laid her knitting on her lap and reached down and stroked Anne's hair. "Well, it might not be _fun_ exactly. But we could _try_ to make it fun. Use our _imaginations_. Right?"

Anne thought she might cry. She felt her lip quivering.

Marilla patted her head.

Anne didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she said, "Marilla?"

"Yes?"

"...You're nice."


	168. A Cuthbert Baby Again

Marilla quietly explained to Matthew how she'd handled the discussion with Anne- that Anne _had_ admitted there was a potential baby, and that Marilla had offered reassurance that the baby would _not_ actually bring on the end of the world.

"Did she say anything about the _rest_ of it- the rumor about the money and the wedding and all?"

Marilla shook her head slowly. "I was going to ask her about the rumors, and about Gilbert being involved, but once we began talking, it felt like it was enough for her just to disclose the possibility of a baby at all, so I didn't make her keep going."

Then Marilla thought about the notes Gilbert had left, and said, "Gilbert brought school notes for her today, and there was what looked like a wedding invitation tucked away in them."

"A wedding invitation?" Matthew said, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes. Just a homemade one, made by another child at school, I'm sure- it wasn't in Gilbert's or Anne's handwriting," Marilla said. "…I'll ask her about it, of course. I just didn't want to push her too quickly."

"So should _I_ just avoid the subject altogether, then, d'you think?"

Marilla thought about this a moment. "No," she finally said. "I think you were right to give me time alone with her to ask her about a baby, but…if a baby could be the reality of the situation, then I think from this point on we ought to just be very matter-of-fact about things, and not treat anything as if it must be hushed up or whispered about."

Matthew nodded.

"Anne," Marilla called. "Come down and help me with dinner, please."

Anne came down and the two worked together in the kitchen, with Anne happily chattering away, as if nothing was bothering her at all.

And it was partly true- while worry was her constant companion, she felt she'd been able to let go of another weight from her shoulders today, because Marilla had spoken as if Anne bringing a baby into their home was perfectly normal and would not be a burden to them. The idea of having a baby was still awful to her, but at least she didn't have to harbor secret fears that Marilla would turn her out of their home.

During dinner Marilla said casually, "Matthew, don't let me forget, next time we go into town I want to buy new yarn. I was going through my knitting basket with Anne earlier and I noticed I don't have any soft colors- like pale yellow- colors that would be suitable for a baby. Anne and I were talking about how we might need to do a lot of knitting soon, if we happen to have a new little one around here."

Matthew looked at Marilla as if he didn't know what he was supposed to say to that.

Marilla gave him a purposeful look, her eyebrows raised, pushing him to say _something_ to Anne that would _show_ his acceptance.

"Oh," Matthew said, called to action. "Is that so?" he asked in a pleasant voice.

Anne was not happy about Marilla bringing that up to Matthew, and her cheeks grew red- but she did _so_ need to hear Matthew accept her.

"Well, Anne, we'll get lots of pretty colors for you," he told her, giving her a smile.

Anne felt bewildered. Matthew should have been shocked, but he wasn't.

Anne thought Marilla's statement about yarn was the very first time Matthew had heard of the potential baby, so she couldn't understand why he wasn't acting distraught over it. She did not know that this conversation was anything _but_ impromptu.

"Matthew…"

"Mmm?"

"You aren't surprised Or…angry?"

Matthew shook his head. "No."

Anne just stared at him, confused.

Matthew said in a cheerful voice, "Any baby you're dressing will have to have outfits in every color and puffed sleeves, besides." Then he took a bite of his green beans and went back to eating like this was all perfectly normal.

Anne felt like she was in a bizarre dream where Matthew and Marilla should be shocked and angry with her but somehow they weren't.

She found herself able to eat her dinner easily after that.


	169. A Grown Up Friend

I wanted to give Anne a woman to talk to who was younger than Marilla and Rachel.

And also I thought it would help to let her have a woman who was a new wife and mom because she could alleviate some of Anne's worries.

Normally not a huge fan of adding in extra characters, but since the tv show writers added in extra people who weren't part of the book series, I figure I can add in an extra person too. Hopefully my extra character "works"; sometimes extra characters can be amazing, read "Within a Forest Dark" by Elizasky. I hope my extra character will work out too.

* * *

"Marilla," Anne said suddenly that night before bed, "We never went to see Emily Perkin's baby."

"I went without you, Anne. Just after Christmas, while you were at school."

"…oh."

"Are you disappointed? You seemed so set against it, that I decided not to make you tag along with me."

"No, I just wondered…"

"But Emily still wants to meet you," Marilla said. "And I told her we'd visit again. Why don't we go see her tomorrow? I'm sure she'd love to have a chance to show off Clara. She's a new mother, you know- frightfully proud of her little girl."

Anne did not exactly want to see Clara, but she decided it would be good for her…maybe she could get herself to start looking at a baby as being a sweet little creature instead of a dreadful monster.

* * *

Emily Perkins welcomed them into her parlor and quickly went into her kitchen, after which she brought out gingersnaps and cocoa.

After pleasantries to Marilla, she turned and said, "And this is Anne, of course! I've been looking forward to meeting you; I was disappointed when Miss Cuthbert came without you."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Perkins," Anne said, trying her hardest to sound soft-spoken and mannerly so that Marilla wouldn't be embarrassed of her introduction.

Emily smiled. "You must call me Emily, if we're to be friends."

Anne liked Emily already. Emily was just twenty, married only a year, and the youthful girlishness in her face and her voice made Anne feel she wasn't _too_ far off to really be a friend, or at least someone to look up to.

Anne didn't think she could eat anything, but she nibbled away at a gingersnap to be polite.

Marilla and Emily talked on and on, with Anne only partly listening, but trying to appear as though she was.

 _Where's the baby?_ Anne thought. Or, she _thought_ she thought it. Marilla and Emily both turned to her, startled. Her voiced thought had interrupted their talk of a quilting bee Rachel was organizing.

Marilla and Emily both laughed, but Emily's laugh was delighted while Marilla's was a nervous laugh- Anne had embarrassed her with her abruptness.

Emily stood up. "Well, she's asleep at the moment, but you're welcome to come up and have a look."

Marilla put her hand on Anne's arm. "Anne, you mustn't disturb the baby. Sit back down. Now, Emily, we were thinking about next Saturday-"

"Oh, it isn't a disturbance at all," Emily said sweetly. "I'm pleased as punch to show her off! Come up, Anne, and if she's awake then you can hold her."

Seeing the baby felt like something to be endured, but Anne felt she must face it. Holding the baby was quite another matter and Anne hoped little Clara would stay asleep.

But Clara was awake in her bassinette when they arrived in the nursery.

"Doesn't she cry when she wakes up?" Anne asked, wondering why the baby was just lying there staring up at the felt shapes Emily had hung above the bassinette.

"Hardly ever! She's such a happy little thing. She's nearly always contented." Emily picked her baby up and snuggled her. "Aren't you, darling?"

"That's a relief," Marilla said. "When I visited you after Christmas, you were having a time! I'm glad to see things are finally settling down. You certainly look fresher since then, Emily- you've lost that tired new mother look! You're back to your old self again, and lovely as ever."

Emily should have smiled, but bit her lip. She looked at Marilla. Then she said, "Anne, why don't you sit here in the rocker and I'll let you hold the baby?"

Anne reluctantly settled herself into the rocker and let Emily put the baby in her arms. It wasn't a new feeling; she'd held babies often before- but holding a quiet baby in a quiet room with nobody yelling at her _was_ a new feeling.

"Oh, Miss Cuthbert, let me show you the quilt my mother brought us- I'd like to know what you think about the sunburst pattern, perhaps we could make something like it at the quilting bee…"

Once in the hallway, Emily whispered, "Miss Cuthbert, I didn't want Anne to know how hard the first few weeks of Clara's life were. It might be best if she thinks it's been easy all along…"

Marilla looked into Emily's eyes and knew exactly why Emily wanted Anne to believe having a newborn was easy. She sighed.

Emily said hesitantly, "I'm sorry if I'm wrong and shouldn't have _believed_ it, but- I've _heard_ things, and…"

"Yes, I'm sure you have," Marilla said, with a shake of her head. "I think I can trust you not to spread rumors-"

"Oh, I haven't!" Emily interrupted, looking shocked. "I haven't repeated a word of it, not to anyone."

"Thank you for that," Marilla gave her.

"Is it…is it _true_?" she questioned.

Marilla didn't know what to say.

"Forgive me," Emily put in quickly. "I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business. I only brought it up because you mentioned how _hard_ my first few weeks were, and I didn't want Anne to _fret_ over it herself…"

Marilla pursed her lips. "The part of the rumor about Anne trying to hoodwink the Andrews for money is absolutely untrue. She'd never do such a thing, and we'd never allow it."

"I'm sure not," Emily was quick to say.

"And about Anne getting married- to- to _anyone_ \- no, that isn't true either."

Emily just nodded.

"But as for a baby coming along, we just don't know. Anne was…attacked. Attacked in a particularly brutal way." She paused, gauging Emily's understanding of her meaning, then said, "And we don't yet know if there are any repercussions of that."

Emily was horrified. "My goodness, the poor girl! Oh, Miss Cuthbert, I never would have imagined…"

Marilla took a breath. "I don't know how Anne would feel about me telling you this, but I suppose she'd rather you know the truth than believe she's some sort of gold digger, or worse, a loose woman. But please don't let Anne in on you knowing. She's under enough duress as it is…"

"Of _course_ ," Emily agreed immediately.

Marilla gave her a bit of a smile. "Thank you for…for wanting Anne to believe that the first few weeks _weren't_ terrible! I should have thought of that myself and not mentioned how tired you were! I wish I hadn't said anything at all now."

"I'm sure it'll be all right," Emily whispered, turning the knob of the door. "I'll be a friend to her, and I'll make Clara a friend to her, too- she'll see that she needn't be frightened of anything. …Hopefully nothing will come of it, but I'll do what I can to keep her from worry just in case."

Marilla gave Emily a squeeze.

As they came back into the nursery, they both smiled over Anne rocking the baby. Clara was seemingly fascinated by Anne's braids, grasping one in her chubby little hand. Anne looked up when they came in. "I think she likes me," Anne said.

Marilla breathed in relief.

"I'm sure she does," Emily said cheerfully. "She doesn't always take to strangers right away. You must have a way with babies."

Anne didn't respond to that. She was looking at Clara's fluttery little eyelashes.

Marilla looked around the room. "Anne, did you notice how many pretty things Emily got for Clara? Many of them were gifts."

Emily put in, "When you have a baby, a lot of people bring gifts. It's _so_ nice."

Anne rocked the baby some more while Marilla and Emily talked about church news.

Finally, Marilla turned to Anne and said, "We ought to go before we wear out our welcome. I'm sure Emily has things to do. Say goodbye, Anne."

Anne looked up. "Oh- all right," she said.

"You don't have to go," Emily said.

"Nonsense, you'll need to get supper on. Anne, come along."

Anne took one last look at Clara and stood up, handing her back to her mother. At this, Clara let out a wail.

Emily grinned at her. "I believe you'll have to come back soon. It seems she's smitten with you."

Anne smiled. "Thank you very much for the cocoa and gingersnaps. They were so delicious they must have come right from heaven. I don't know if they _have_ gingersnaps in heaven, of course, but I always thought there _should_ be, because heaven supposed to be perfect, isn't it, and how could anything be perfect without cocoa and gingersnaps? But then the reverend says in heaven we won't need to eat or drink anything because there isn't any hunger there, but people often eat when they aren't hungry, so why can't we-"

"Anne, goodness," Marilla said, pressing Anne to follow her out of the room so they could go. "She does go on a bit," Marilla told Emily.

Emily almost laughed at Anne's offended expression.

They reached the front door.

But then Anne remembered that she wanted to stay and ask about babysitting. She hadn't wanted to babysit, but now she thought it wouldn't really be terrible to babysit Clara. She could make a little money and maybe Emily would be her friend. She already liked her.

"Um, Mrs. Perkins- Emily, I mean- I wondered if you might need a babysitter? I know I look young, but I've got _lots_ of experience, I practically brought up three sets of twins on my own."

Emily smiled. "Yes, Miss Cuthbert mentioned when she first visited that you wanted to do some babysitting for me, and I'm pleased to accept! My mother-in-law stayed with us at the beginning to help me, but she's since gone home, and I've found that keeping house is quite a bit different with having a baby to tend to. It would be nice to have a girl come in and look after Clara for a little while so I can get the laundry done and do some scrubbing. Ever since the baby came, I'd be embarrassed to have anyone see my floors!"

Anne didn't notice anything wrong with the floors, but perhaps Emily was just fussy about things like that.

Marilla seemed unsure, though. She looked meaningfully at Anne, saying, "You mustn't feel as though you _have_ to have a job, Anne. Matthew and I intend to provide for you and-" she stopped quickly and instead finished, "and any needs you have."

Anne nodded, understanding.

"You still want to?" Marilla asked.

"Yes, I think so," Anne said, though she was not completely sure. "When would you like me to come back, Emily?"

"Could you stay a bit with me today? Or must you go home? I'm going to get supper on, and Clara seemed to like you so much, you could get acquainted with her while I get supper ready."

Anne looked at Marilla. "May I, Marilla?"

Marilla looked at Emily. "Well, if you're sure…I suppose I can send Matthew round to get you before it gets dark out."

When Marilla had gone, Emily gave Anne a squeeze. "This will be perfect," she said. "Let me show you where all her things are kept."

Emily brought Clara downstairs with them after giving Anne the functional tour of the nursery. "You _could_ watch her up there," she said, "But I thought if you keep her down here then you and I can chat a bit while I get supper on."

"Okay," Anne said, happy for the chance to know more about Emily. She held Clara on her lap, bouncing her and listening to her sweet giggles. Eventually she began a rousing game of peek-a-boo. Clara again grabbed at Anne's braids, making Anne laugh.

Emily asked Anne all about her life before Green Gables, and Anne found herself telling Emily even the things she didn't share with people.

Finally they'd talked so long about herself that Anne felt comfortable asking Emily a question too. "Did…did having Clara hurt a lot?" Anne bit her lip, wondering if Emily would think she was terribly inappropriate asking about such personal matters.

But Emily didn't seem shocked by the question. She was very careful about what she said, though. "It certainly wasn't _comfortable_. But it wasn't too terribly bad- you just keep breathing and you keep your focus on something, and the doctor helps you and then the baby arrives and it's all over with."

Anne said, "When I lived with the Hammonds- they're the people I worked for- I heard Mrs. Hammond delivering her twins and she screamed the whole time and it went on for _hours_."

Emily looked like she didn't know what to say. Finally she said, "Well it isn't _always_ that way. Anyway, I'm sure having two babies is different from having only one."

Anne nodded. She could see that being the case.

"Emily, were you…happy? When you knew you were going to have a baby?" Anne asked slowly.

"I was ecstatic," she said. "But-"

" _Ecstatic_ ," Anne repeated, trying the word on for size. "I like that word. It has a snappy sort of sound to it."

Emily laughed.

"I'm sorry, I interrupted you. I didn't mean to. I find it _dreadfully_ hard to keep words _in_ once they're thought," Anne explained. "You were about to say _but_ -"

" _But_ I was scared, too. Ecstatic _and_ scared!" Emily said. "Any time you're venturing into new territory, it can be daunting."

"I like both of those words, too," Anne announced. " _Daunting_ sounds like a good way to describe terrible things. But _venturing_ sounds nice- like an exciting adventure."

Emily was amused by Anne.

When it was time for Anne to go, she didn't want her to.

* * *

Just wanted to say we're getting super close to where Jane stands up for the truth which I am almost done writing, and it was so satisfying to write Jane finding her voice in this and being pushy and demanding action. I think you guys are going to like what happens.


	170. Anne is Away

In the late afternoon, Marilla answered a knock at the door and found Gilbert standing on the front porch.

"Oh, Gilbert," Marilla said. "I'm afraid Anne isn't here. I left her at the Perkins, she's visiting with Emily and getting acquainted with her baby. Do you have notes for her? I'll give them to her when she comes home."

Gilbert nodded, "Thank you, Miss Cuthbert," he said, handing them to her.

She glanced through them before looking back at him. "Gilbert…" she began.

"Yes?"

"The last time you left notes, I noticed what looked like an invitation in them."

"Oh," Gilbert breathed, looking down with a bit of a blush. "That was…Ruby, she…she got wind of all this and kind of got carried away. She's been planning all kinds of things- pink roses and punch bowls and working on a menu. …I'm sorry-"

Marilla said, "Ruby Gillis is a nice girl, but she is prone to flights of fancy. I suppose I can't say I'm surprised."

"I can _try_ to get her to stop, but…well, to be honest, I haven't been fighting her too much on it because she seems to _like_ Anne better if she thinks she's planning a wedding for her. She didn't exactly get _along_ very well with Anne before, so I hated to do anything to make her go back to her old ways. And…it'll make things easier with her mother."

"With her mother? What do you mean?"

"...Mrs. Gillis won't let Ruby be friends with Anne unless there's going to be a wedding."

Marilla looked confused.

Gilbert took a breath. "Ruby overheard Anne telling me some of the fears she had, and Ruby thought they were _definite_. So she told Josie, and Josie told her mother, and…the Pyes have everyone in town believing Josie's lies...I mean, that's why I had to come tell you quickly in the first place, because of the rumors…"

Marilla nodded, looking displeased with him. "Yes, I know, but when you told me, you didn't mention that a part of those rumors were about having a baby. I found out about _that_ part from the Andrews, no less. The rumor appears to be that you and Anne are…together, but are trying to pin the blame on Billy in order to get money from them."

"I meant to tell you everything," Gilbert said quickly. "I would have explained about the baby- if Anne hadn't walked in then. Really I would have. I'm sorry you had to hear about it that way."

Marilla nodded, accepting that.

Gilbert told her, "Mrs. Gillis believes the truth- that Billy attacked Anne."

"That's a relief to me," Marilla breathed out. "It's nice to know we have someone in our corner."

Gilbert nodded, but then said, " _But_ Mrs. Gillis won't let Ruby be friends with an unwed mother. She _knows_ it's Billy, not me, but when she heard the part of the rumor about Anne and I marrying, she said she didn't care _who_ Anne was marrying, as long as there was a marriage certificate before a baby arrived."

Marilla nodded slowly. "I see," she said regretfully. "I suppose a lot of the parents must feel that way. I expected that Mrs. Barry would storm over here to tell me Anne can't be friends with Diana, but there's only been silence."

Gilbert said, "…Diana told me at school that her parents said not to come here…and that if Anne goes back to school she's not to speak to her at all."

Marilla's eyes were sad.

"I hope it won't stay that way. …It's just that right now Diana's mother and father can't decide whether to believe Mrs. Pye or Mrs. Gillis."

Marilla stood in the doorway, looking up at the porch roof as if God Himself might be sitting up there, ready to direct her.

"Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert began, "I was going to ask if Anne could come over to my house?" Seeing her face, he explained, "Not for me. For my father. He wants Anne to visit."

Marilla nodded. "Yes, then. That would be fine."

"And of course you could accompany her. Not that we'll be _alone_ ," he rushed on. "My father will be there the whole time. But if you'd feel better about it-"

"No, Gilbert, I feel quite safe about her being with you."

"Thank you."

"Don't give me any reason to change my mind."

"I won't," Gilbert promised. "…I guess I haven't made myself look very good to the general public, have I? What with being in the privy and being seen in the woods together and now the rumors…I'm sorry, Miss Cuthbert. I lo- um, admire Anne very much, and I hope you know I never had even one impure thought. Truly."

"I believe you," Marilla said kindly. "If you had any bad intentions with her, she'd notice. But I see how much she trusts you."

Gilbert was relieved.

"Gilbert," she said after a long moment, looking at him seriously, "It's only natural that the two of you have grown close. And that's all right…as long as you both understand you're too young for anything more than friendship."

Gilbert bit his lip. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

Marilla changed her tone, saying, "Shall I tell her you're coming tomorrow then?"


	171. Through the Evergreens

On the way back from a pleasant afternoon at the Blythe house- Anne happily holding a small stack of books on her lap as she sat in Mr. Blythe's buggy, and Gilbert feeling that all was right with the world because Anne was by his side- they drove back to Green Gables.

As Anne steadily chattered the whole way, Gilbert tuned in and out, sometimes listening to her, and sometimes not. He felt warm inside, as if spring had sprung, despite it still being a bit chilly outdoors. All his senses were heightened- melting icicles sounded loudly in his ears as they fell- _plop, plop_ \- from the evergreens he and Anne drove slowly through, and he felt the rough material of the reins in his hands and the slight pull from the horses as they moved ahead. The smell of Anne was most intoxicating- she still smelled like the cinnamon they'd sprinkled on their toast that morning- and the taste of sugar was on his tongue.

"Any news on the wedding front?" Anne asked suddenly, changing topics and startling him.

Gilbert came back to earth.

It took him a moment to come to reality.

"Yes. Ruby's deciding on a menu. She wants to serve lobster."

" _Lobster?"_ Anne asked.

"She says it's romantic and she wants to do it all herself. I asked her if she knew how lobsters were cooked. She seemed a bit less keen on it after I told her."

Anne couldn't help smiling. "Poor Ruby. I wonder when she'll figure out there's no wedding."

"I don't know about that," Gilbert said. "I'm starting to think we'll have to get married just so Ruby doesn't feel she's wasted her time."

He smiled when Anne laughed.

"Well, to be honest, Anne, I haven't exactly _discouraged_ her. She seems to have let me go, and I don't want her to go back to the days of being angry with you for 'stealing me' away from her. Things are all right between you two now, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Anne smiled at him.

"And she says her mother won't let her be friends with you unless there's been a proper wedding before a baby comes, so I figure why not let her think that for a while? Just so Ruby can be friends with you. She really _does_ want to be your friend. I'd hate to do anything to make her mother prevent it."

Anne nodded. "And if there's no baby then it won't matter and Ruby will already be my friend."

"Right," Gilbert confirmed. "Ruby's been dying to visit you. What do you want me to tell her?"

Anne bit her lip. "She could come over. Maybe…maybe _with_ you, though." Anne wanted Gilbert there in case Ruby started asking her awkward questions. Gilbert had proved to be good at running interference for her.

"I wish she could bring Diana with her," Anne sighed unhappily. "But I know Diana isn't allowed to come, or she would have by now. She'd never stay away like this if it weren't for her mother."

Gilbert nodded, feeling terrible for her. "She gave me a note for you, the other day. I would have left it with Miss Cuthbert yesterday but we got to talking about something else and I didn't remember I had it."

"Do you have it now? Or can we go back to your house and get it?" Anne could not wait another minute for communication with her bosom friend.

"It's here in my pocket," he told her, moving the reins into one hand so he could reach in to get the note.

Anne practically ripped it from his hands.

Her face fell after a moment.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Did you read this?" she asked.

"Of course not. It's between you and Diana."

"Well, most of it isn't good. Listen to this: _Darling Anne-_ isn't it wonderful to be called 'darling', though?"

Gilbert quite agreed with that and filed away _Darling Anne_ in his mind for future use.

"So, anyway- _darling Anne, I want so badly to come and see you, but Mother won't let me out of her sight, not for a minute. She says you're an unsuitable girl for a proper young lady to be friendly with. I tried and tried to make her understand that none of this was ever your fault, darling Anne, but she won't budge. I thought about stealing away to see you, but as I said, she won't let me get away a moment. So I asked Gilbert to give this message to you, because I know he's allowed to go to your house, anyway, and I don't know anyone else who else is. How are you? How are things with the Cuthberts? I hope they're being kind to you, they ought to be. When are you coming back to school? I miss you just awfully, Anne!"_

Anne stopped reading out loud and skimmed over the rest of the letter. "The rest is about things going on at home. She's irritated. Minnie May keeps going into her room while Diana isn't there and playing dress up with her clothes and shoes. And Mr. and Mrs. Barry have been snapping at each other and all sorts of things. Oh, she told me she got a 97 on the test about the War of 1812. That's good. Gilbert, Marilla wanted me to ask you to bring your test over so she can use it to quiz me. Can you?"

"Sure," Gilbert agreed. "Tomorrow's Sunday. You think you'll be at church?"

Anne hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't _want_ to be," she said. "Everyone's going to _stare_ at me. I just _know_ it."

"They're only staring because they're in awe of your beauty."

Anne looked hurt. "Well I never expected that from _you_ , Gilbert- teasing me about my looks!"

Gilbert turned to her, shocked. "I _wasn't!"_ he said. "Anne, I meant every word."

She looked put out. "No, you didn't."

Gilbert insisted. "I did, Anne, truly!"

She looked down.

"Anne," Gilbert pleaded, "I meant it. I did. _Please_ believe me."

Anne still didn't say anything.

"I thought you were smart, but you're not- not if you can't see what's _true_. You're the most wonderful thing to look at. Like a tiger lily or a sunrise or a…a piece of pure _gold_."

"Why, Gilbert Blythe, you could almost be a poet," she said, shrugging and lifting herself up, no longer in stony silence.

He smiled.

After a moment, he asked, "Miss Cuthbert said you were visiting Emily Perkins. Are you going to take care of her baby after all?"

"She wants me to come on Mondays and Wednesdays, because on Mondays she does her laundry and on Wednesdays she does her ironing, and she says it's too hard to get anything done with the baby. She doesn't even want Clara in the same _room_ with her when she does her ironing. She says she's had this awful fear that Clara will get too close to the fire or one of the hot irons will fall on her. …I suppose mothers must worry over an awful lot of things."

"I guess they must," Gilbert said.

"Do you have to do your own ironing, too?" Anne asked him, suddenly curious.

"Yes," he said. "But I only have one iron, so I can't switch them out as they cool off."

"That must make ironing take much longer," she put in.

He shrugged. "I don't have much to iron."

Then he said, "I hope you'll like babysitting for her, and now you'll have some money of your own. Don't go too crazy when you go into town," he said with a smile.

"Oh, I won't spend it. I'll just save it. She's going to pay me every Wednesday, but sometimes I'll get extra pay because she said she wants to have some Saturday afternoons to go see her girlfriends. She's only twenty, you know, and was the first to be married out of her circle of friends. A couple more of them have been married now, too, but Emily's still the only one of them with a baby. She says she loves being married and having Clara- and her friends adore seeing Clara, too- but sometimes she just wants an afternoon of being with her girlfriends the way they were before all the marrying started."

Gilbert nodded. "Do you like her, then?"

"Very much," Anne said happily. "She's _so_ nice, and her baby's nice too. And she likes me! She even likes my hair."

"Smart baby," he said with a smile.

Anne rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad it's all working out happily. I worried the baby would upset you. It's good it's not."

Anne shook her head. "I thought it would be simply dreadful, but I found that looking after a baby isn't so bad when everyone's nice to you. Emily never shrieks at me like Mrs. Hammond did. Their house is quiet and peaceful, and her baby is so calm and happy. She hardly ever cries."

"You know, I've been thinking about that. The Hammonds were always cross, weren't they?"

" _Extremely!"_ she said with passion.

Gilbert continued, "I bet babies pick up on all that crossness, even if they're too little to understand it. That's why they cried so much, I bet- because the Hammonds made an unhappy home."

"Probably. That makes a lot of sense," Anne agreed.

"Maybe Emily's baby is calm because _Emily_ is calm. Maybe just staying calm is all it _takes_ to keep a baby from being a constantly wailing, fussing nightmare," he said.

Anne was quiet. Then she said, "I still don't _want_ one."

"No, of course not."

"But if I _have_ to have one, I've decided…I've decided it _might_ not mean I have to live in the depths of despair _forever_."

Gilbert smiled. "That's good to hear. Forever is an awfully long time to be in the depths of despair."

She nodded. "I don't know what I'd _do_ , exactly, and I don't really want to think about it, but at least I know Matthew and Marilla won't hate me for it. They were even talking about all the things they'd get for me. And here I was worrying they'd turn me out of their house!"

"I always knew they wouldn't," Gilbert said, reaching over and patting her hand. "They love you. I can see it in their eyes."

"You really think if you love someone, people can see it in your eyes?" Anne wondered.

Gilbert nodded. "I think so."

Anne found herself suddenly turning away- she didn't want him to look her in the eye.


	172. A Confidant

Marilla mulled it over and decided she needed to confide in her friend.

She'd felt she shouldn't share Anne's personal problems, but upon later reflection, she thought she would be more helpful to Anne if she had Rachel's experience as a married woman with children.

Besides, at this point, she was sure Rachel had already heard all the rumors; the least she could do was give Rachel the real story.

She explained the situation to Rachel Lynde over tea that afternoon as Anne was away visiting Gilbert's father.

Rachel had heard the rumors only earlier that day. She'd shown up at Marilla's front door no less than ten minutes later.

What Rachel had _heard_ was that Anne was expecting Gilbert's baby and blaming it on Billy, but to Marilla's relief, Rachel was quick to accept that if there was a baby, it was most definitely Billy's and most definitely the result of an attack.

But once the story was explained, she had an immediate and firm opinion:

"The Andrews need to put pressure on their son to marry her, that's all there is to it. A paper signed in the court of law will remedy this."

"Well done, Rachel- that is perhaps the _least_ helpful advice I have gotten so far," Marilla said dryly.

"It's the right thing to do. A baby ought to have parents who are legally married, and a father listed on the birth certificate."

"I'm a little more concerned about what's right for Anne now, than I am about what's right for the baby," Marilla told her. Then she said, "…Besides, I don't think that's what's right for the baby, either."

"Why ever not? She'll be bringing a baby into the world fatherless. It's going to make her have a hard life- a young, unwed mother."

Marilla stared at her.

Rachel explained patiently, "I'm not saying that's what's _right_ , Marilla, I'm saying that's what _is_."

"Well, you're right about _that_ \- it is what it is."

"And there's no reason for it- it isn't as if she was attacked by a stranger- you _know_ who this young man is. So he shouldn't be _allowed_ to just abandon her like that. If he's caused her to have a baby, then he needs to step up to his responsibility."

"If him stepping up to his responsibility means Anne being forced to endure a lifetime with him, then I'd rather him do the irresponsible thing and abandon her."

"I mean a marriage in name only, Marilla," Rachel explained. "I don't mean for them to be married in any _personal_ way! I'm saying they ought to be married quickly and simply- just a piece of paper signed in the court of law- so the baby won't be illegitimate, and Billy will _have_ to provide support. They wouldn't actually live together. Even _I_ think that would be ridiculous!"

"Well, good. I was beginning to think you'd lost your mind," Marilla said.

"But it'll right the situation. You must see that! You'll just have them stand in front of the justice of the peace together, say the words and get the paper."

Before Marilla could respond to that, Matthew, who came in then, headed to the pump to wash his hands, and without even looking over at the two ladies, he said in a gruff voice, only one sentence- never one for long speeches- that settled the matter: "If he gets anywhere near her, he'll be stepping over my dead body."

Rachel looked shocked, but Marilla had an amused expression. "Well, I suppose that's that, then."

After Matthew had gone, Marilla looked at Rachel and sighed. "It's this time of waiting I loathe most. And of course Anne's been waiting even longer than we have. I don't know much longer I can take it. She's about eleven weeks past the incident, it normally begins to show at about twelve weeks, doesn't it? She doesn't look a _bit_ different yet- still skinny as a rail, so that gives me hope."

Rachel could not comfort her. "Some ladies show at twelve weeks. But the thinner you are, the longer it goes without showing."

"I didn't know that," Marilla said. "I assumed if you were thin, it would show sooner."

Rachel shook her head. "And besides that, a _first_ pregnancy always takes longer to show, too. After that, I suppose your muscles are stretched some because you show quite a bit sooner the next time."

Marilla sighed. "Two strikes against us."

She sat quietly, hands clasped around her teacup.

"But there are other signs, Marilla, don't lose heart."

Marilla looked up. "She's often been sick in the mornings. Not lately, but she went awhile where it was nearly every day. …Of course, that was when she was still attending school with that boy. Since we've kept her home, she hasn't been sick at all."

"Well, that's encouraging!" Rachel told her enthusiastically, hoping for better news to give Marilla. "Then perhaps she isn't."

"What else can we be looking for, Rachel? I ought to have asked the doctor, but I was so rattled I could hardly have told you my own name…"

Rachel nodded sympathetically. "Ask her if she's felt tender in her bosom."

Marilla blushed, then thought it was ridiculous that she should blush at that, being a woman of her advanced age.

"It's often one of the earliest signs," Rachel said wisely.

"Is it?" Marilla asked. "That's good to know."

Rachel said, "I would tell you to look for mood swings or outbursts, but…"

The two women looked at each other, amused by this, despite the bad situation.

Then they laughed. "I'm afraid that won't help us, will it?" Marilla said, her laughter really being more about a release of her rattled nerves.

"Poor dear," Rachel said quietly after the laughter died down. "Has she been having cravings for things? Or aversions to foods? I would often feel sick at even the _sight_ of certain foods. That could be a good way to tell…or at least, to give you a clue…"

Marilla thought about this. "Anne hasn't had much of an appetite at all, really. I've been worried about her. I can tell she's lost weight, and honestly she doesn't have any to lose."

Rachel added, "Well- there's still being tired, having headaches…"

Marilla thought about that, then said unhappily, "She may have had all _kinds_ of symptoms just due to all the _stress_ she's been under…" Then she had a new worry: "Oh, Rachel, _stress_ can't be good during pregnancy- the baby-"

Rachel said- hesitantly- "I feel terribly wicked saying this, but if Anne had a miscarriage, it would perhaps be a blessing…"

Marilla was quiet a moment, then said, not looking at her friend, "I'd be lying if I said the same thought hadn't occurred to me."

But then she said, "It isn't just miscarriage I have to worry about. She's so little herself, what if she _delivered_ a baby but then it didn't _live?"_

Rachel would have liked to offer reassurances, but they would only be platitudes. So she just gave her friend space to unburden herself:

"I tried to tell Anne that having a baby might be fun, and the poor little thing looked up at me and asked _'you think it could be fun?'_ and- oh- she said it in such a _hopeful_ voice. She wanted so desperately to believe that it might not be as bad as she's imagining it to be." Marilla sighed, then went on:

"And as much as she dreads a baby, I really feel that if I _could_ \- if I could _imagine_ , as Anne would say- that is _was_ a happy occasion, I really believe I _might_ be able to get Anne to cheer up about it. I might even be able to influence her to imagine it as sort of an _adventure_. I can see tempting her with frilly little baby dresses, and…Rachel, her imagination and her love of fancy things just might be what helps her to _accept_ it all."

Rachel nodded.

"If I can get Anne acclimated to the idea of a baby- even _happily_ so- how dreadful it would be for her to then lose it!" She sighed.

And then an even worse thought occurred to her. Her face paled. "What if we lost _her_?"

Rachel decided it was time to step in. "Now, Marilla, don't-"

But Marilla cut her off, tears springing to her eyes. "I thought I didn't _want_ her- we sent her back!- but now I need her so. I don't know how we'd go on if we lost her!"

Rachel reached out and clasped Marilla's trembling hands in her own. She said firmly, "Anne is a spitfire and she isn't going to succumb to anything."

Marilla stared at Rachel a moment, then shook herself out of her moment of darkness. "Oh, Rachel, is this normal? To worry so much- even about things that may never happen? If it is, I may not be cut out for motherhood."

Rachel smiled reassuringly. "I'm afraid motherhood and worry go hand in hand. But there's love in both, and you have plenty of that."


	173. Feeling

Jane had to tell her parents the truth.

But she didn't want to.

She thought and thought about how to tell them, but anything she could plan to say felt like such a nightmare that she couldn't bring herself to say any of it.

Finally she came up with a new idea: If she could get Billy to be sorry for what he'd done- really and truly repentant- then _he_ would want to confess it. He'd go to their parents and admit what he did and it would all be cleared up.

She approached him late that night, after their parents had gone to bed and while Prissy was upstairs curling her hair for church the next morning. Jane had just finished her homework at the kitchen table, and Billy was lying on the sofa in the parlor reading a baseball magazine.

"Billy, I was thinking. Anne hasn't been in school for a while."

"So?"

"Well, aren't you worried about her?"

"Why would I be?"

Jane sighed.

Then Billy laughed. "At least with her at home, none of us will get fleas."

Jane could have cried. "Billy, why do you have to be so _mean?"_

"I'm not being mean," he defended himself. "She deserves what she gets."

Jane pushed his feet off the sofa, nearly causing him to tumble to the floor. "Hey!" he exclaimed.

"Mother told you not to have your shoes up on the sofa!" she said angrily. "Now you listen to me, Billy. You've got to start being nicer."

"You made me be nice to her before, didn't you, and you found out she doesn't like that."

Jane was quiet.

Then she said, "Yes, but things were different before. That was before everyone knew about…about everything. That's why she's staying home, I bet."

"Well, good riddance to her," Billy said, turning back to his magazine.

Jane snatched it from him and threw it on the carpet.

Billy looked shocked that Jane would do that.

"I want you to admit to Mother and Father what you did," she demanded.

"Why would I do that?" Billy said, his face twisted.

"Because you feel terrible about doing such an awful thing," Jane prompted.

"But I don't," Billy said.

"But you _should_ , Billy. You _should_ feel terribly guilty!"

Billy laughed. But then he said, "Jane, if you tell Mother and Father, they're not going to believe you, so why bother? They'd never believe something like that."

"Why don't you feel bad when you cause someone pain?" she finally asked in a quiet, sad voice. "Other people see when someone's hurt and they feel _something_. …You never do."

Billy didn't answer her.

"Billy, you _hurt_ someone. Forget for a moment that it's Anne. Forget what she said about Prissy. Just think of her as…as a _person_. _Any_ person."

He still didn't say anything.

"A girl, who's been scared and hurt. Who keeps getting sick and crying and all sorts of awful things."

Billy suddenly remembered Gilbert telling him that Anne had blood on her clothes.

He shook his head. He was not going to let anyone make him feel bad for defending his family.

But looking at Jane, he thought he better give in just a _little_ , at least give her _something_ …Maybe if he could pretend to have a little remorse, Jane would decide that she'd converted him after all, and wouldn't get him in trouble with their parents.

"Don't you feel bad about it at _all?"_ Jane asked, desperately hoping to find some trace amount of good in her brother.

Billy thought about this. Finally he shrugged and said "I feel bad about hitting her head".

"You hit her head _too?"_ Jane asked, upset.

Billy explained, "Well, I got tired of her fighting me, so I shoved her arms out of the way. But my elbow hit her head then."

Jane bit her lip. That wasn't much. She tried to be positive. Maybe if Billy even felt bad about one little thing, she could get him to feel bad about the rest of it, too. "But you feel bad about _something_ , that's a start! See, don't you wish you could take it back?"

"Sure. If I could have pushed her arms out of the way _without_ hitting her head, I would have."

Jane stared at him helplessly. "That's not feeling bad about what you did! That's just blaming her for fighting against you in the first place!"

"Look, Jane, I didn't mean to hit her head, it just happened. And it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been pushing on me. So she brought it on herself."

Jane didn't respond. She just shook her head and went upstairs to get ready for bed. There was no hope of Billy feeling repentant and admitting what he'd done. She'd have to do it herself. And she would. There could be no more delay, she'd have to tell them tomorrow.


	174. In Marilla's Room (Warning- trigger)

She was pushing, struggling, but she couldn't break free.

Her arms pounded against the body above her, until finally they were carelessly shoved away- her arms being no more than an annoyance- and as they were shoved away, a sharp elbow hit the side of her head.

But the pain that hit her head was nothing compared to what was happening elsewhere.

Still asleep, Anne rolled out of bed. She gasped as she hit the floor, waking up with a start.

Now awake, she lay there a moment, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom, breathing hard and trying desperately to bring herself to the present.

But that was hard to do when the wood floor underneath her felt exactly as hard as the ground had that day. She could not move.

Finally her breathing slowed…and she came back to her room at Green Gables.

She untangled herself from twisted sheets and put them back on her bed. Her hands shook as she smoothed her quilt down and got back into what should have been the safest place in the world. _But it's not._ _I'm never safe. Not even in my own bed._

She sat huddled under the covers, shivering. At least she wasn't sweating this time. But the nightmare didn't end just because she woke up: This dream- just like every one before it- impacted her body, not just her mind. The throbbing pain she felt between her legs was vivid. _It didn't happen again. It didn't. Why does it feel like it did?_

Then she remembered she wasn't alone anymore.

She waited for her heartbeat to slow to normal pace, and then she crept softly down the stairs. She opened a door and peeked in.

"Marilla…" she said softly.

There was no answer, the shape in the bed snored lightly.

"Marilla?" Anne whispered, coming closer.

She stood there at the side of the bed a moment, then leaned over and shook Marilla.

"What? What- oh, Anne. What is it?" Marilla groggily sat up in bed.

But now that Anne was here, she didn't know what to say. "Hi," she whispered.

Marilla was confused. " _Hi?_ " she repeated. Her hair was down, mussed by her pillow. She brushed it back out of her face. She looked at the clock. "Anne, did you wake me up at two o'clock in the morning to say 'hi'?"

"…no." was Anne's small reply.

Marilla looked at Anne, then- really looked at her. Her small white figure was hunched over, arms wrapped around herself. Her pale, frightened face was wet. "What is it?" Marilla asked more gently now.

Anne did not say anything for a moment. She just looked at Marilla, wide eyed and hesitant. Finally she said trembling voice: "Marilla...could I…could I talk to you?"

"Yes, of course," Marilla said. In any other situation, she'd have told Anne to be sensible and go to bed, and they'd talk in the morning. But it was not any other situation, and Anne could not be expected to be sensible when she was shaking at two o'clock in the morning. "Sit down," she said kindly.

"Thank you," Anne said, sitting on the bed and hugging her knees. "I hate being upstairs all alone when I have these awful dreams."

"When you have...? Have you been having nightmares a lot?" Marilla asked. This was news to her.

Anne nodded in the dark. "All the time," she breathed. "I mean not _every_ night. But at _least_ a couple times a week."

Marilla felt awful. "What did you do in the past?"

" ...cried," Anne said.

"And you've cried tonight, too, haven't you?" Marilla said, seeing Anne's tear streaked face in the moonlight.

"Only in my sleep," she said.

"Do you cry in your sleep?" Marilla asked, her voice sounding unlike any voice Anne had ever heard from her.

Anne nodded. "Sometimes I wake up and I'm not crying but I _must_ have been crying in my _sleep_ because my face is all wet and my eyes are red and puffy and I can't breathe…"

Marilla's breath sounded shaky. "What do you dream about?"

Anne didn't speak.

Marilla waited.

"…I don't think I ought to tell you that," Anne said.

"Why not?" Marilla asked, moving to sit up all the way and putting her pillow behind her back. She thought they might be up for quite a while; better make herself comfortable.

"Because it isn't nice."

"Nightmares never are," Marilla said.

Anne took a breath. "I dream about being on the ground."

Marilla nodded. "Yes."

"And about…being held down. Arms. Holding me down." Anne took a breath. "Sometimes I get tangled up in my sheets and then I feel like I'm stuck again."

Anne hugged her knees to her chest. "My legs getting pushed-"

She stopped, swallowing hard, and Marilla wondered what she could say to help. She could not think of anything at all.

After a pause, Anne continued. "I still _feel_ what happened. I thought that the pain went away, but every time I dream…it comes back again. Fresh. I'm hurting."

"You're hurting right now?" Marilla felt crushed.

Anne nodded, unable to speak, tears coming quickly.

She took a shaky breath once she could. "Marilla…can I stay here with you? …I don't want to be by myself."

"Well, all right," Marilla replied, pulling back the covers. Anne didn't waste any time scrambling in. She burrowed down under the covers and pulled one of Marilla's pillows to her side, clutching it. Marilla tucked the quilt around her and patted her head.

Marilla said humbly, feeling helpless: "I don't know what to _do_ , Anne. I can't think of how to help you."

But Anne looked up at her. "You just _did_ ," she said.


	175. Coming of Age

Jane felt sick when she woke up for church that morning. She knew today had to be the day, she could not delay the truth any longer.

She'd been up half the night thinking about what to do, and she came to the terrible conclusion that it was not _enough_ just to tell her mother and father the truth.

She had become aware of something about her family's values that brought her to an uncomfortable realization: She did not trust her parents. She knew that whatever she told them- if even believed- would be _covered up._

The only thing to do, then, was to bring the truth into the light in a very public way, so that they could no longer deny it in front of the Cuthberts.

Her own sense of right and wrong meant she had to draw a line between herself and her family, and she placed herself on the other side of it.

They would cover up wrongdoing to save face.

She would not.


	176. The Bravest Thing

On Sunday the Cuthberts went to church- leaving Anne at home- and after the church service, the Andrews approached them. Their children were with them.

"We wondered if you'd spoken to Anne yet, and got the real story from her," Mrs. Andrews said in a sympathetic voice. "This has gone on long enough, and we won't be a bit angry with her, as long as she understands she's done something wrong by accusing our son."

Prissy had little interest in the matter, but Billy and Jane were listening intently. Jane looked worried. …Billy looked smug.

Marilla bristled, "We are well aware of 'the real story' and you-"

Before she could finish, Matthew leaned in and said quietly to her, "Marilla, let's not do this in church..."

Mr. Andrews looked back and forth from Matthew to Marilla. Then he said, "I know we've been angry with you, but we've had time to calm down, now, and we see that poor Anne will have enough troubles in life with that baby- we won't make it any worse for her by holding grudges."

Marilla calmed down, thinking Matthew was right, because she was prepared to make a scene that would cause even more rumors among the congregation. "How good of you not to hold grudges. Could we come over?" Marilla asked with an insincere smile. "I'd ask you to our house, but your house is so much closer, it seems more convenient."

"Of course," Mrs. Andrews said, seeming glad that the Cuthberts were ready to make peace between them. "Would you like to go home and get Anne first? I'm sure Billy will forgive her if she apologizes, won't you, dear?"

She put her arm around her son. He smiled. "Of course I will."

"That won't be necessary, we can talk about this without her," Marilla said nonchalantly.

* * *

"What are you wanting to say to them?" Matthew asked asthey drove in their buggy to the Andrews' residence.

"I'm going to tell them what's what," Marilla announced. "And say that we intend to take Billy to trial."

"But we aren't," Matthew pointed out.

"They don't need to know that Anne would be unlikely to win," Marilla said. "All they need to know is that we're serious about making Billy answer for his actions."

Matthew didn't see this conversation going well.

"…Do you think we should try to clear up the part about a baby?" he asked hesitantly.

Marilla shook her head. "I don't see that there's much to clear up. They think it's definite, but _we_ don't know yet. …Let's just leave that alone, I don't like them having more information than we do."

Matthew nodded, not saying anything.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews turned to her children. "When we get home, the three of you stay out of the grownup's way. We have things to discuss that aren't the business of children."

They nodded, each in their own dreadful thoughts.

Mr. Andrews, driving, said "Son, I'm sure you're angry at that girl, dragging you into her problems, but be a good sport and forgive her. There's no sense in holding grudges. All right?"

Billy smiled. "Sure. I'm not mad at her anymore, anyway."

Jane glared at him.

* * *

Prissy went up to her room, but Jane in the kitchen hovered near the parlor door, listening.

Billy began to make a sandwich for himself. He was the only one who felt like eating. It was lunch time, but the adults had other concerns, and Jane felt too sick to eat anything.

She could hear the Cuthberts with her parents in the parlor.

"How is Anne doing?" Mrs. Andrews asked kindly, sitting down.

"She's all right," Marilla said stiffly.

"I do feel bad, truly, for us getting so upset with you before." Mrs. Andrews told them.

Mr. Andrews cleared his throat. "You meant to do good by keeping her, and it isn't _your_ fault she's…a certain kind of girl. I'm sure you had _no_ inkling at _all_ when you took her in. …I hope you can see why we got so upset, our son's good name being dragged through the mud-"

Mrs. Andrews cut him off, finishing gently: "But you have enough troubles now without us being _uncharitable_. We talked about it and realized we simply must be more understanding of your difficult situation."

"How good of you," Marilla said dryly. "But Anne's story has remained unchanged and we intend to pursue the matter to the fullest extent of the law."

Jane heard nothing from the parlor for a good minute.

"You can't be serious."

That eventual reply, from Jane's father, stood alone for another several seconds before their mother chimed in, her voice breaking, upset: "But Billy's done _nothing_. Nothing at _all_. Why can't you see that?!"

Jane's heart was beating. It was time. She had to force Billy into a situation where their parents could not deny what he had done.

She pushed open the kitchen door and walked into the parlor.

The four adults turned to her. "Dear, the adults are talking. Go-"

"I have something to say," she announced, her voice shaking.

"Jane, we are occupied-"

"No. I have to say it." She took a deep breath. "Billy confessed to me what he did."

Mr. Andrews was incensed. "Billy did not _do_ anything! Jane, you can't _possibly_ understand what we are talking about. Now go on-"

"I know _exactly_ what you're talking about," she said, holding back tears. She looked at the Cuthberts; it was easier than looking at the faces of her parents. "Mr. and Miss Cuthbert, I'm sorry I didn't say anything until now. I've known all along! Billy admitted it to me! He told me he-"

"Jane! That is enough!" her father shouted.

"No, it's not enough!" Jane screamed as if in a tantrum, sounding quite unlike herself. "I'm tired of lying! I'm tired of seeing Anne miserable every day because of what he did to her! He _hurt_ her! He did unspeakable things to her! If she's having a baby, it's his _fault_! He forced her to have- to have- intimate relations- she didn't _want_ to! He sprained her wrist because she was just trying to get _away_ from him!"

Billy, still in the kitchen, dropped the jar of jam he was holding. It smashed into pieces, causing them all to jump.

"William, come in here!" His father called.

"No!" Mrs. Andrews practically spat, looking at the Cuthberts. "I will not have our son brought out in front of them to face their scrutiny."

She got up and left the room, bumping into Billy and yanking him away from the doorway.

She returned a moment later, shutting the door firmly behind her. "He's cut his hand," she said, upset. She looked at Marilla. "He dropped a jar of jam because he was so upset by hearing such disgusting accusations made against him."

Jane was standing in the middle of the living room sobbing. "I'm not lying, mother. He _told_ me he did it!"

Jane pushed the kitchen door open and ran in.

They all thought she was running off, upset- but she wasn't. She intended to get Billy and make him be held accountable for his actions.

Billy was at the sink wrapping a towel around his bloody hand. He looked at her. "They don't believe you," he said quietly.

Jane wiped at her tears. "But they will."

Billy turned the faucet off. "Why? What could you possibly tell them to make them believe you?"

Jane thought. "You made her bleed. From her…intimate area. I didn't know about that happening, and now I _do_. Mother'll know _I_ had no way of knowing about that before I heard it from _you!"_

Billy almost laughed. Such things could not be discussed so frankly, and especially not publicly. "You're going to stand in a room of people and talk about intimate areas bleeding?"

"No," Jane shook her head. " _You_ are."

She grabbed him unexpectedly and dragged him out, startled. "Tell them, Billy! Tell them what you did!"

Billy pushed out of her grasp. "Leave me alone! I didn't do anything!"

"Yes, you _did!_ Tell them how you pushed her on the ground and ripped her clothes and left her _bleeding!"_

Billy wasn't going to say a word.

Jane would not let him off that easy _._ "Tell them _where_ she was bleeding, Billy!"

Silence.

"Tell them _where_!" Jane practically screamed.

Billy looked anywhere but at the faces staring at him.

Finally Jane had to say it herself. The four adults were shocked at Jane, a young girl, knowing about such things, let alone speaking so publicly about them: "It was her…her _intimate_ area, Mother. Billy's…relations caused her to bleed there."

"Bleeding…" Mrs. Andrews repeated in a whisper. How could Jane possibly know about women bleeding the first time they had intimate relations?

"Billy…" his father said.

Billy's face was stony. Finally he said lowly, "Blood doesn't mean anything."

"Oh my god," his mother said, slowly sinking into the nearest chair.

"I head everything from the upstairs window!" Jane turned to her father now, saying, "I went into Billy's room that night and told him what I'd heard and he said he did that to Anne and he did it because of _Prissy!_ He said it was _revenge!"_

"What do you mean, because of Prissy?" their mother asked, her face white.

This time Billy spoke up, surprisingly, ready to defend himself. "Mr. Phillips is taking advantage of her! He _kissed_ her. The rumors Fido spread about Prissy weren't slander, but it doesn't matter whether it was slander or not- I just had to get her to shut up about Prissy!"

No one said a word- they were frozen, shocked into silence.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" he said, seeing their faces.

The silence was deafening.

"Well I didn't! If that nasty b-" he stopped himself from cursing in front of his parents- "If Fido hadn't said what she did about Prissy then none of this would have ever happened. She had it coming! Someone had to teach her a lesson."

Billy was breathing hard. The Andrews were staring at him, unable to speak.

Jane said, "Now you've admitted it, Billy."

And he had: In his anger, he'd said more than he meant to. This had happened before, many times. Billy was not good at controlling his emotions, he often said things he later wished he hadn't.

Jane was crying. "Father, mother, you think Anne's corrupt and she _isn't_. She didn't even _know_ anything!"

But her parents were still staring at their son. "Billy…"

Billy looked around at the five faces staring at him. He suddenly stormed from the house, slamming the front door behind him.

The Andrews sat, stunned.

The Cuthberts _could_ have gotten up and left, embarrassed at witnessing a blow up in someone's family. They _could_ have left the Andrews to figure out their mess with their children on their own, but they did not move: They would not give the Andrews time to work out a story.

Finally Marilla spoke up, in a voice devoid of any sympathy: "Now, about the trial."

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews slowly turned toward her, looking at her with faces that were no longer haughty but newly fearful.

"A trial. _Harmon…"_ Mrs. Andrews looked as if she might faint.

They were quiet a moment.

"They'll bring us all up as _character_ witnesses at a trial," Mrs. Andrews breathed.

Mr. Andrews said angrily, "Billy comes from a good family. A good, decent family that's been here for generations. They won't believe- not- not after our _testimony_ -"

Jane bravely stood up to her parents: "There are other people, you know: Gilbert knows the truth, and he's a lot more respected than Billy, you can't deny it. Ruby and her mother believe Billy did this, too. And there's _me_. _I'll_ tell the courts what Billy did, no matter what you say."

Her parents stared at her, aghast.

Jane spoke up, her voice surprisingly strong: "I won't lie for him."

"Jane-"

"Not in town. Not at school. And not on a witness stand. I _won't!"_

She choked on a sob and left, running from the room. A few seconds later, they heard a door slam somewhere upstairs.

* * *

Jane rushed past Prissy's room on her way to her own. Prissy stayed quiet, leaning against her door, listening to the shouting below. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. _My God, what has he done to her in my name?_


	177. Harm, Part I

"It's not a metaphor, it's a simile."

Gilbert glanced through the school notes he'd written for her. "No wonder you didn't get it- I never wrote down the difference. I'm sorry."

Anne sighed. "It's all right," she told him, putting her pencil down. "I really shouldn't be letting you do this, Gilbert. It isn't fair to you. You're having to re-write all your notes every day. And you're in school all day and coming home to do even more school. …And today you skipped church to come see me."

"There wasn't any point in going if I wasn't going to see you there," Gilbert said, smiling at her.

"Right. There's God and all, but what does He matter, if _I'm_ not there?" Anne said sarcastically, with a hint of a smile.

"Exactly. Now you know how I feel."

Anne shook her head, laughing with a blush.

Gilbert watched her. The beauty of the church bells faded in comparison to her laughter.

Then she said, "But I still don't like you doing all this work for me."

Gilbert shook his head. "Going over it all again helps me to remember things. They say you know you've really learned something if you're able to teach it to someone else. Besides, you'll be back at school soon enough and then you won't need my help anymore. Let me enjoy it while I can."

Anne smiled a small smile.

"Have Mr. or Miss Cuthbert said anything about you coming back?"

"No," she said sadly.

"Maybe they're trying to work out some plan to have you go to school but be apart from Billy," Gilbert suggested.

"Considering it's one room, I don't see how."

"Maybe they're wanting you to switch off days or something. So you're not there at the same time as each other," Gilbert thought of. "I'm not sure how _well_ that would work, but it's a thought."

"Maybe," she said, stretching. She was tired of doing school work. She looked at the clock. "It's past lunchtime," she told him. "I'm going to make us lunch."

Gilbert closed his book. "Sounds good to me. What can I do?"

She got up. "You can keep the house from burning down."

"Okay," he laughed.

Anne explained, "Marilla doesn't like me to use the stove when I'm by myself. But I'm not by myself, you're here."

"I see. Well, I will dutifully keep the house from burning down. And if I fail and it burns down around us, I will save you from the ravaging flames."

"My hero," Anne said dryly.

"I'll go use the privy, be right back." Gilbert slipped out the back door.

Anne turned the stove on low and got leftover mashed potatoes from the pantry, taking the cheesecloth off. She put a little oil in a pan. She was going to make potato pancakes.

Suddenly the front door seemed to burst open. Had it blown open with the wind? It was flung open too abruptly for it to be Matthew and Marilla. She heard footsteps, but it couldn't be Gilbert- it was too soon for him to be back, and he'd have used the kitchen door. But if it wasn't Matthew or Marilla, and it wasn't Gilbert…whoever it was should have knocked before entering. She slowly turned the knob on the stove, to turn off the burner, as she listened.

She timidly crept toward the parlor.

An angry figure greeted her. The spatula she'd been holding clattered to the floor.

It wasn't very common for people to lock their doors, in a small, safe farming community in this day and age.

But after this moment, Anne would never again leave a door unlocked.


	178. Harm, Part II

_Billy_.

Anne's breath caught in her throat.

He was _here_ , here in her _house_.

Why?

He took a step toward her.

" _Anne_ ," he said, trying to sound sweet, but missing the mark terribly.

Anne did not say anything. Her ears buzzed in her head, too loudly to focus.

"What- what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice faltering. Then, realizing she did not care to hear the answer, she said, "Go away."

"But _Anne_ ," Billy said, coming closer.

Anne began backing away.

"Anne, listen, I…I want to apologize."

Billy kept walking closer.

 _Why? Why is he doing this? Does he know I'm alone? Does he know my family isn't home?_

There was _Gilbert_ , she thought desperately. _Gilbert_ was here. Gilbert had left to go outside only a few seconds ago. It would take just a few minutes to use the privy and then he'd be right back. She began glancing around the room for something she could use to protect herself.

Billy reached out and grabbed her hand.

It was like fire, burning through her skin, but she felt frozen. She could not pull away.

Billy dropped to his knees. "I'm begging you, Anne, forgive me. Please. I'm _so_ sorry. I hate myself for it."

"That's both of us, then" Anne heard the words before she realized they'd come from her.

At that response, the mask Billy was wearing slipped off just _slightly_ , and for a _fraction_ of a second, Anne saw the rage he was hiding. But as quickly as the rage splashed across his face, it was gone, and he smiled, slipping the mask back on. He stood up from the floor slowly, saying in a sweet and gentle voice, "I don't blame you for hating me. But can't we put it behind us and start over? I want us to be friends. Or more. I…I think I _love_ you, Anne."

That was enough to break Anne out of her frozen state. She yanked her hand away from him.

He didn't react to that, he was going to keep up this charade- why? She didn't know.

He took another step closer. They were at the edge of the parlor by this point, but Anne backed away from him again.

"I don't understand why you're…" She shook her head, unable to finish.

"Anne, I've been so wrong, behaved so terribly. If you could forgive me, if we could just start over, then everything will be different. I promise."

Anne tried to take another step back but found she was at Marilla's bedroom door. She could try to get inside and barricade the door, maybe, if she was quick enough.

But her first effort would be to see if he'd leave on his own. Maybe if she just told him what he wanted to hear-

"Billy, um…I do. I forgive you. All right? Everything is fine between us. Don't worry about it."

She slipped her hand behind her, to grasp the doorknob behind her back.

"Really?" Billy asked, desperation in his voice.

"Of course," she said, managing a smile.

He took a deep breath. "Good."

They just stared at each other a moment. Anne's hand was behind her on the doorknob, but she didn't know if she should turn it and try to get in quickly, or if Billy had been placated and would disappear on his own. She'd forgiven him, what was he still waiting on?

"The thing is, Anne, my parents know about what happened in the woods, and-"

 _What "happened" in the woods?_ Anne thought to herself, incredulously. _That's a nice way to put it, it absolves you of any responsibility._

But to Billy, she said only, "Oh, do they?"

"Yeah," he said. "And…and I thought that maybe we could…"

" _What?"_ she spit out, wondering how long she could even try to pretend she was okay with him again.

Billy saw her mood change, and tried another tack. His face took on an expression of false concern. "Well, I'm just thinking about...our baby, Anne. About what kind of life he's going to have…"

Anne felt rage bubble up inside her and she knew she wasn't going to be able to hold it in for very long. She had no idea if there was a baby or not- she knew everyone _thought_ there was- but suddenly she felt very protective of the baby she didn't want. All this time she had been resentful of it, blaming _it_ for being _Billy's_. But now that Billy had _said_ it was his, it was suddenly very much her own and she could have killed him for having the audacity to act as if it belonged to him in any way.

"It makes such a…such a messy story for the little guy, doesn't it? Wouldn't it be better- for our baby's sake- if you tell everybody that I didn't attack you- that we _meant_ to be together?"

So that was it. He was feigning an apology because he needed her to change her story.

"See, if everyone believed we _meant_ to be together-"

"Oh, I get it," she interrupted, flatly. "If you and I _meant_ to be together, then we'd _both_ have done something wrong, of course, but it wouldn't be the same- for _you_ \- as if you'd violently attacked me. Is that it? Sorry, Billy. I'm not pretending I did that willingly."

She had lost all ability to pretend she could ever have forgiven him, and she could feel the heat of anger from him. He was too close.

He breathed out, frustrated.

"What if I married you?" he asked suddenly, as if he thought of something he believed could sweeten the deal. "Then nobody would look down on you for being an unwed mother."

Anne's eyebrows shot up and she actually laughed in his face.

Enraged, he shoved her from the shoulders. She'd been standing against the door with her hand on the knob, now she fell through it and landed on the floor of Marilla's bedroom, her head hitting the leg of the bed.

He looked down at her and almost laughed, the way she'd hit the floor and got the wind knocked out of her amusing him.

He knew he wasn't going to repeat the attack he'd made on her months ago- that wasn't why he was here, and it would only complicate things. No, he wouldn't do that to her.

But since she was already on the ground with the wind knocked out of her- just like the first time- why not scare her just a little? Give her a couple minutes of fearing that he _would_.

He got over top of her, grabbing at her petticoat. He wasn't going to rip it this time, but he'd let her think he would.

But this time she fought harder than the first time. She clawed at his eyes, just narrowly missing them as he knocked her hand out of the way.

Suddenly she stopped fighting him at all.

He looked at her, confused at her sudden submission.

But Anne had stopped fighting for a reason. She saw two legs behind Billy.

"Hey, Billy-" Gilbert said.

"Yeah?" Billy turned, startled to hear Gilbert of all people.

Almost before the 'yeah' was out of his mouth, he was met by Gilbert's fist.

Billy collapsed to the floor, landing on Anne.

Anne began pulling away, and Gilbert pushed Billy over to let Anne free.

Gilbert helped Anne up, his concerned eyes quickly looking her over. "Are you all _right?"_ -she nodded quickly, breathing hard- "Are you _sure?"_ he asked frantically, his hands on her face, in her hair, on her shoulders.

Billy groaned, rolling over. Once he came to, he started to sit up, holding onto his nose, which was bleeding.

Gilbert began to yank Billy to stand. "Get up," he ordered.

Billy shoved Gilbert. Gilbert grabbed Billy by the shirt and threw him out of the room. Billy stumbled, but did not fall. He just stood there, breathing hard, looking like he didn't know what to do. Blood was trickling down his face.

"Get _out_ ," Gilbert spit.

"I only came here to apologize!" Billy said angrily. "I was trying to make things right!"

"No you weren't," Gilbert said, his face twisting in disgust. "Get out of this house before I get Mr. Cuthbert's rifle."

That threat was the first thing Gilbert could think of. It wasn't much of a threat since he had no idea where Mr. Cuthbert's gun was and he was positive he could not truly make good on the threat anyway, but he tried to sound like he _meant_ it.

Anne tugged gently at Gilbert's shirt. "Wait, Gilbert. Billy wants to make things right."

Gilbert turned to stare at her, bewildered.

Anne walked slowly up to Billy. She repeated: "Billy wants to make things right. That's what you want, isn't it? To make things right? "

Billy just looked at her. He nodded slowly.

Anne reached out and put her hand on him. She touched his face gently. "You're bleeding," she said.

Billy relaxed. This was going to be easy. She was even _concerned_ about him. God.

Anne repeated herself: "You're bleeding." ...But there was a lightness to her face that did not at all match her serious words. …He suddenly found himself on edge, and he took a step back from her.

She took her hand away, looking at the blood that covered it. Suddenly she wiped her hand down his chest.

"Hey!" he said, backing up as the blood smeared into his clean white shirt.

Then, before he looked up from his newly-bloodied shirt- before he could react- she grabbed at the shirt she'd just bloodied and with all her might she brought her hands apart quickly, the way you would open a packet of something. There was a ripping sound as the cotton tore, and his shirt hung open on him, the buttons rolling down the hall.

Once he had the wherewithal to respond, he lunged at Anne, but she sidestepped him, and before he could lunge at her again, she kicked him in the groin.

"Argh!" He let out a strangled cry, falling onto his knees.

He wanted to fight back, but he couldn't. He couldn't breath for a moment, crouched over and holding himself.

Anne had thought she would feel better- she'd torn his clothes and left them bloody, just like he'd done to hers- and now he was lying on the floor pained in the same place he'd pained her. And while it _was_ strangely vindicating, she found it exhausting and emotional, as well, and with a gasp she began sobbing.

Gilbert gently pushed Anne back into Marilla's room. He looked at the broken creature lying before him.

"Leave," he said simply.

He shut the door.


	179. Not All Secrets Hurt

NOTE:

While this chapter ends happily, I need to warn you- In this chapter, I try to describe what it is like to have a flashback. I try to describe how while it is happening, you are literally not where you currently _are._ I don't want to speak for other people so don't assume other people's are the same, I can only speak for myself. I hope no one finds it upsetting. If you might, please skip it. (Also, I hardly ever have these anymore. If you are experiencing them yourself, you might want to skip this chapter, take care of yourself- and I hope it helps to know they do eventually start to go away and get better.)

* * *

Billy stumbled out of the house, one hand over his bloody nose and the other hand still protectively over himself, as if it could somehow take away the pain in his groin.

It was the most intense pain he'd ever felt, and as he made his way down the Cuthbert's front steps he vomited, nearly on himself. It had come without warning, no time to prepare, and it made his eyes water and his throat burn.

He was angry, but he had no other choice but to back off. He could barely walk. But he'd _have_ to walk, all the way back to his house.

What am I going to do? he thought helplessly. My clothes…I've got to hide them. How can I go home, they'll see me…

He remembered Gilbert confronting him that cold day, weeks ago: _Torn clothes and blood, Billy. That's what you left her with._

No one had known that day what he'd done to her- s _he'd_ managed to get home and hide everything. He had no way to: it was his shirt that was ripped, and even if he knew how to sew, he didn't have the buttons- they were on the Cuthbert's floor. His own blood smeared down the front of his crisp white shirt could not be washed away, he thought, at least not quickly.

 _How did she do it? How did she go so long without anyone knowing? They'll know about me as soon as they see me…_

* * *

Gilbert turned to look at Anne. She had burst into tears after she attacked Billy, but she wasn't crying now. Her face was white as a sheet and she was shaking.

"Anne," he said, coming toward her.

She backed up from him. Confused, he stopped walking toward her.

"Are you…all right?"

She still didn't say anything.

He approached her and again she shrank back from him.

Anne saw the confusion in his eyes, but Anne was in another moment, and Gilbert was not there.

He saw her holding a wad of fabric underneath her skirt. He'd seen Billy grab at her petticoat, but he hadn't ripped it, not this time. Why was she holding it like that?

"Your clothes, they're not torn-"

Anne looked down and what _she_ saw was a long jagged piece of white cloth hanging loose, blowing slightly in the fall breeze, a few scattered leaves drifting over her boots as they stood on the hard packet dirt underneath her.

"Anne," someone was saying to her, but it didn't make _sense_ for _that_ voice to be there, because he wasn't _there_ , it was only the two of them- Billy and Anne. She was alone in the woods, and he was walking toward her.

Her wrist. She suddenly felt pain shoot through it, and she dropped the wadded up part of her skirt she was holding and reached for her arm, cradling her wrist against her chest.

As the boy came toward her, she felt mixed up. If he'd _already_ hurt her wrist, how was he just _now_ approaching her?

Confused, she rubbed her wrist, still backing away. Where was her hat? she suddenly thought. It's cold out, and if she came home without her hat… She wanted to turn around to see if it had fallen on the ground behind her, but she _couldn't_ , she couldn't because that _boy_ was still coming and if she turned her _back_ on him… Suddenly, she bumped into the footstool Marilla had at the end of her bed.

"Anne!" someone called out as she tumbled backward onto the ground. The voice sounded very far away, and it wasn't the voice of the boy who was approaching. She tried to sit up, rubbing the back of her leg where she'd bumped into that tree branch and fallen. Only she didn't see a tree branch.

A figure loomed over her. Oh God, no. She couldn't get away. She was frozen except for her eyes, her eyes she shut in terror. He was going to hurt her, she knew it, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. She felt his hands on her, on her shoulders- but he wasn't pushing her down. Why wasn't he pushing her _down_?

"Anne!" Suddenly her eyes snapped open. Gilbert was kneeling over her on the floor, his eyes wide with fear.

She didn't answer him at first. Her eyes were glassy and unresponsive.

He was saying something, he kept talking, and she could not seem to understand him.

Instead, she looked at the hands on her shoulders. They were not Billy's hands. Her eyes moved along to the arms attached to those hands. They were not Billy's arms.

When her eyes made their way up to the face that belonged to those hands and arms, she finally came back to Marilla's bedroom at Green Gables.

"Anne!" Gilbert was crying over her.

She started to sit up, with Gilbert behind her.

"Anne- I- I don't know what happened. Are you ok? It was like you weren't…you weren't _here_ , or something. Your _eyes_. I couldn't get you to answer me…you were just backing up…did I _frighten_ you? Oh, Anne, I'm so sorry! I've never _seen_ you like that. I've never seen _anyone_ like that! Are you all _right?"_

"Is he gone?" was her hoarse reply.

"Yes, but I think the front door is still open, I didn't hear him shut it when he left- I'll go shut it now, and lock it- I only didn't yet because I couldn't leave you!"

"Don't," she said, holding onto his final words. "Leave me. Don't."

"I'll just get the door, and then I'll-"

"No," she said, louder this time. "Don't leave me."

"But the door, Anne-"

"No!" she said, louder still.

Gilbert stared at her, helpless.

"Okay," he said finally. "Okay. I won't leave you."

They sat there for at least a minute, not moving.

Anne finally looked at the room around her. Her eyes filled with tears. "It's not safe," she whispered.

"What's not safe?"

"Everything. Nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Nowhere is safe."

Gilbert's eyes changed. "That's not true. You'll be safe here in your house. Nothing like that will happen again."

She stared at him. Why was he saying that to her? It wasn't true.

Even the floor she was sitting on had been tainted- she couldn't sit on it one moment longer.

Marilla's bed. Marilla's _bed_ was safe. Only just last night she'd climbed into it and it had made everything okay again. Marilla's bed had no nightmares in it.

Now she grasped at the quilt and crawled under it.

"Anne?" Gilbert asked as her face disappeared and the rest of her followed it.

Anne found Marilla's pillow. She clutched it to her tightly, wanting to cry but having no tears left in her. She pushed her face into it and breathed deeply. It still smelled like Marilla. Why was Marilla still away? She wanted so badly for Marilla to be here with her right now. She opened her eyes and saw Marilla's nightgown lying next to the pillow. Anne pulled that close to her, too, and shut her eyes again. _Please come back, Marilla. I need you._

"Uh…Anne?" Gilbert asked again, looking at the lump under the quilt that was Anne. "I know you said don't leave, but do you want me to go- maybe just in another room, or…"

"No," came the muffled reply. "Don't leave."

He stood there, not knowing what to do. "…It's just that I don't think I ought to be in your bedroom," Gilbert said. _Especially not if you're going to be in bed,_ was the unsaid thought. He assumed it was Anne's own room, until he noticed that the house shoes next to the bed couldn't possibly be hers. Well, regardless, it was still _a_ bedroom, with a bed in it, and he couldn't see things working out well for either of them if they remained in their current situation. He'd been hoping the Cuthberts would come home soon, but perhaps he should instead wish they'd stay away a bit longer. Otherwise he might never be allowed back into their home again.

"Look, why don't you come out of there and we'll sit in the kitchen?"

"No!" she cried.

"What about the parlor, then? You could sit on the sofa. Look, you could bring the quilt in there, and-"

" _No!_ " she cried. "Stop trying to make me leave the only place I feel _safe!_ I thought you _cared_ about me!"

His eyes changed. "I do! I _love_ you."

He had _meant_ to say _like_. Care Respect. Admire. _Anything_ but love. But once it was out, he had no desire to take it back.

There was a split second where there was no response from the lump under the blanket, until: "You do?"

" _Yes_ ," he said, as if it had been obvious.

She slowly sat up. She pulled the quilt around her. She sat there a minute watching him, and then she asked, hesistant: "Are you sure you don't just feel sorry for me?"

" _No_ ," he said, shaking his head. "It has nothing to do with all that. It brought us together, sure, but I'd have loved you no matter what, Anne, maybe I just wouldn't have known it as _soon_." He stepped closer. "I've never felt this way about _anyone_. I've been keeping it a secret because I didn't think you could- you could feel that way, and I didn't want to- to _push_. But now I've said it, and I can't regret it. I…I _love_ you, Anne."

"Really?" She asked it as if she were afraid to hope it _could_ be true, as if she'd never heard anyone say it to her before, and perhaps she hadn't.

"Yes, _Anne_ …" He came closer.

A smile spread itself slowly across Gilbert's face as Anne's eyes let him know that everything he'd hoped for could be true. He sat with her, four hands clinging tight to each other. And despite sitting in a rumpled bed now stained with the blood of Anne's well deserved justice, for that moment neither of them could wish to be anywhere else.

But then, he looked down at their hands and- _"Oh, no"_ Anne said with dismay. While in a flashback and then in the upset afterward, she had not paid attention to Billy's blood on her hands. Gilbert looked down now; it was on _his_ hands too.

Knowing what he would see but hoping he was somehow wrong, he lifted up the quilt…it was on the pillow, the bedsheets, the nightgown. _"Oh, no,"_ Anne said again, putting her hand to her face – then pulling her hand away quickly, realizing she'd just spread it further.

Gilbert stood up quickly. "Maybe there's water-"

He looked into Marilla's pitcher; there was still water left over from that morning. He grabbed the face towel from her dresser and dipped it into the water. They both wiped their hands, and Anne's face, but then looked helplessly at the red marks all around them.

"Poor Marilla," Anne said, "I ruined everything! I'd been lying there wishing for her to come back and now I don't _want_ her to. Look what I've done to her bed!"

Gilbert bit his lip. "It'll come out," he said. "It just needs to be soaked in cold water for a while."

Anne leaned against the headboard with a groan of, " _Ugh!"_

"Maybe she won't notice?" Gilbert said, not meaning it, of course- just seeing if he could get her to laugh.

It worked. She laughed.

When her laugh went away, he said: "I don't think she'll mind."

Anne gave him a look.

"Okay, she'll mind, but only for a minute. Then she'll just be glad you're okay," Gilbert promised. "Unless… _are_ you okay? I really couldn't tell. You…scared me there, Anne, it was like you were in another place…"

Anne took a deep breath. "That's happened before." She looked at him. "I don't know why. It just does, sometimes. It's like it's happening all over again. And it isn't just a memory. I feel- hear- everything. Just like that day. I could've sworn I heard the leaves crunching under my boots." She shuddered, leaning back against the headboard again.

Before he knew it his arms were around her.

She leaned into him, and they sat there, against the headboard. After a moment she said: "I do, too, you know."

"What?" he asked, peering down at her.

"Love you."

"You do?" was Gilbert's quiet whisper.

She nodded, and while she could not forget what Billy had done today, his intrusion would no longer be the reason this day stood out in her memories.

They sat a few minutes, just happy to be together.

"You know how I said don't leave?" She asked, quite comfortable now.

"Yeah?"

"…Well don't."

He looked at her. "I won't," he said, shaking his head.

There was a pause.

"Ever?" she asked.

"I promise."


	180. Delay

First, thank you so much for reviews, it is really nice to log in and see what people are thinking!

I did not plan for Anne to attack Billy, I planned for him to just walk out of the house. But it came out in the moment, and it felt _great_. I am not a violent person I promise but it made me feel like I got some justice for myself by writing about Anne getting justice!

So…a recent reviewer asked if I could write about what happens after they get married, and so I wanted to tell them (and anyone else who wants to know) that yes, in a way. …I want to keep the ending of this story just about her healing, since that's why I wrote it. …BUT, I thought it would be interesting to explore the complicated feelings of having a baby when she herself was an orphan who felt unwanted, so I am starting to write sort of an "alternate ending" to this story. In the alternate ending, she does have a baby where in this story she didn't. And then later she and Gilbert end up marrying and having a life together and she finds that marriage and motherhood can be wonderful things despite the pain she went through in her past.

So, on we go- we are reaching close to the end!

And I can't believe how long this became, so if you're still reading, thank you. …I will leave you with something funny: When I typed that Gilbert was going to drive the buggy, I accidentally said he grabbed his keys. LOL. …Because you need keys to start your buggy. : p

* * *

Gilbert's respect for Anne had not allowed him to sit on the bed with her, but his love for Anne had not allowed him to deny her. Love won out, and he sat on the bed with her for just a little while, until finally he said, "Anne?"

"Hmmm?" she asked, looking up.

"I'd hate for the day we said we loved each other to be the day we're forbidden from ever seeing each other again. We better get up out of this bed before your family comes in."

Anne sighed. She found that she did not _need_ to stay in Marilla's bed. She had found _another_ safe place, and she hated to get up out of his arms. …But he was right.

They stood up, and looked at the bed. "Why don't we go ahead and get these soaking? That way Miss Cuthbert won't walk in to see this mess. We can explain to her what happened."

Anne agreed. She looked until she found another set of sheets, and Gilbert helped her pull the old ones off and put the new ones on. They took the old sheets put them in the washtub, filling it with cold water. Anne put Marilla's nightgown in the washtub, with a silent prayer the stains would come out.

Gilbert went into the parlor, Anne following, and Anne picked up the spatula from the floor while Gilbert shut and locked the door.

"They'll wonder why the door is locked," Anne said.

Gilbert said, "When we explain, they'll understand."

They just stood there a moment, not knowing what to do next.

"Maybe I should go in my buggy and look for them. Do you know where they went?"

"Well, they said that after church they might go talk to the Andrews..." She looked upset. "They said they weren't _sure_ , but they _might_ , if anything came up. …Oh Gilbert, I don't know why they have to go talk to them at all! Can't they just-" She stopped as realization hit her. " _That's_ why Billy came here. Matthew and Marilla must have spoken to the Andrews- Billy said his parents knew, now. I wonder why they believe it _now?_ They didn't before…"

Gilbert slowly said, "They might still be there now. Do you want to go with me? I don't want to leave you…"

Anne bit her lip. She really wanted Matthew and Marilla here with her right now. But she didn't want Gilbert to leave her alone to go find them. And she didn't want to go _with_ him, either, since that would mean driving up to the Andrews house. Suddenly she held her arms out. He hugged her to his side. After a moment she decided, "Let's just wait. I'm here with you and they'll come back eventually."

Across town, the Andrews were quickly trying to usher the Cuthberts out, but Matthew and Marilla were sitting in their parlor, stoic and unsympathetic, intending to continue their confrontation of the Andrews, regardless of the fact that Mrs. Andrews was in tears and Mr. Andrews was getting angrier by the minute- not at Billy, but at Jane for betraying them to the Cuthberts and at the Cuthberts themselves for bringing that orphan into their lives to begin with.

Mrs. Andrews said in a soft, pleading voice, "I _understand_ you want to discuss what happened, but I just _can't_ discuss a _thing_ until I know where my son is!"

Matthew actually tried to say something for once, but he was talked over by Mr. Andrews, who said rather loudly: "Look, if you intend to take us to trial there's nothing we can do about that, but could we please discuss it another time? We have to find our son and deal with him ourselves first."

Marilla relented. "All right," she said, getting up to go. Matthew followed.

But at the door they turned back, Marilla saying, " _If_ we leave here knowing when we are discussing this again."

Mrs. Andrews was holding onto the front door as if she just couldn't _wait_ to shut it, but now Marilla was refusing to move out of the doorway until they agreed on a date.

Mrs. Andrews looked put upon. "I don't know, and we're a _bit upset_ at the moment, so-"

Marilla said crisply, " _We've_ been _a bit upset_ for quite some time now."

Mrs. Andrews touched her hanky to her nose, sniffing. Mr. Andrews put his arm around her. "Give us a couple of days."

Marilla and Matthew looked at each other.

Finally Marilla said, "We will come back at two in the afternoon, the day after tomorrow. If you back out, it won't matter, we'll get a lawyer and begin trial proceedings ourselves. We don't need anything from you to get a trial started. I only want to meet with you because there are other things to discuss besides that."

While they had no intention of taking it to trial, they had every intention of making the Andrews believe they were serious about standing up for Anne.

The Andrews didn't respond. Once Matthew and Marilla were out of the doorway, they shut- and locked- the door.

Billy saw them leave. He was lurking nearby, waiting.


	181. Exhibit A

p.s.- when you read this chapter it's going to seem like jane is helping billy but she's really not, so don't worry

* * *

Harmon and his wife were talking hurriedly in hushed tones, while Jane hovered on the landing, trying to listen in. She couldn't hear what her parents were saying, in part because Prissy was in her bedroom behind her, crying.

"Prissy," she whispered through the door. "Let me in."

"No," Prissy cried.

Jane felt like crying herself.

She didn't know what to do. The Cuthberts being here gave her a bout of courage, but she was emptied of that courage and now stood at the top of the stairs afraid to go back down.

Finally she wandered back into her bedroom. Sighing, she plopped down onto the chair at her desk, staring out at the road. The Cuthberts buggy grew smaller and smaller as they drove away. She wished she could go with the Cuthberts and see Anne. But she thought they must all be terribly angry with her for knowing what her brother had done all this time and not saying anything about it until now.

As she stared down at the road, she saw movement in the trees. Once the buggy was far off, her brother came out of the trees and headed for the back of the house. He was walking funny, sort of bent over like he was in pain.

Jane hesitated, then quietly left her room and crept down the back steps.

She met Billy at the back door.

He was surprised- and angry- to see her. He pushed past her and went into the kitchen.

"Billy," she whispered. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," he said, starting up the back steps to his room. Jane followed him.

"Mother and Father are fighting," Jane said as she followed him.

He ignored her. She followed him into his room. "What happened?" she asked him again.

He pulled his bloody shirt off but then stood holding it, not seeming to know what to do with it. Finally he rolled it up, the bloody side inward, and tucked it behind his school slate. He went to his pitcher, poured water into his washbasin, and then dipped his towel in. He began wiping the blood off his face, gently, since it was swelling by the minute.

Jane was still standing in the doorway.

"What are you still doing here?" he said, turning around when he noticed in his mirror that she was there.

She walked into his room, standing next to him. "What happened to you?"

Billy looked angry. "Stop asking me that. It's none of your business."

"I'll find out anyway," she said.

"Of course you will," he replied dryly. He had finished wiping away the blood from his face and was now looking more closely at his nose, which was already purple and swollen.

"Who hit you?" she asked.

"Take a wild guess," he snapped, going to his closet to find another shirt.

"Gilbert?" she asked, not knowing who else would have reason to hit her brother.

"The Patron Saint of Ugly Orphans, himself."

That made Jane angry. "Stop blaming Gilbert. _You're_ the one who caused the problem. He's just trying to pick up the pieces, is all...what are you looking for?" she asked, seeing he was becoming aggravated as he rifled through his closet.

"Another white shirt," he told her, as if annoyed she existed.

"I saw one in the laundry downstairs," Jane told him.

He was still bent over, like he was in pain. "Well can you get it?" he asked her.

She made a face. "Out of the dirty laundry? Why don't you just wear something else?"

He looked at her as if she was stupid. "I was wearing a white shirt. I need _another_ white shirt to _replace_ it. No one needs to know I had to change!"

Jane nodded slowly. "Sure," she said. "Sure, I'll go get it for you. What are you going to do with that one?" she asked, pointing to the balled up, bloody shirt.

He shook his head. "I gotta get the blood out."

"Do you know how to get bloodstains out?" she asked.

Billy shrugged.

Jane went over and picked up the shirt, looking at it. "What about the buttons?"

"What?"

"What did you do with the _buttons_ , Billy?"

"I didn't do anything with them," he said, his patience wearing thin.

"Well, you _must_ have, because they're not _here_. Where are they?"

"...they're rolling around on the Cuthberts' floor," he finally said.

Jane gaped at him. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't go over there."

He pushed past her. "I'm getting my shirt out of the laundry myself. Go away."

"No, no," Jane said. "I'll go get it for you. You look like you're going to die- why are you all hunched over like that? ...And give me your bloody shirt. I'll wash it myself."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Why are you helping me after you tried to destroy my life?"

Jane hesitated. "Well...I got Mother all upset. Her having a bloody shirt in the laundry isn't going to help her feel any better."

Billy accepted that. "What about the buttons? What should I do about that? ...I can't get them back."

Jane said confidently, "You don't have to get the same buttons back. I can find matching buttons in Mother's button jar. I'll sew new ones on. She'll never know."

"Hey, well...thanks, Jane."

"No problem," she said cheerfully. "Hold on, I'll go get the other shirt from the laundry."

She ran down and found Billy's other white shirt and brought it back up to him. He slipped it on and buttoned it up.

Jane watched him. "So Gilbert was at their house?" she asked.

He nodded. "The Cuthberts must have asked him to come pet-sit their dog while they were out."

Jane felt anger boil up inside her, but she tried to quell it. "Huh. So you went over to see Anne?"

He nodded. "And I got welcomed with Gilbert's fist."

Jane wasn't sorry for him, but she wanted more information. "That's too bad, Billy. But, um...you didn't do anything to Anne while you were there, did you?"

A flicker of a smile pushed across his face before he could wipe it away. "I made my presence known."

"Billy, if you hurt her..."

"Relax, nothing happened. I told her I was sorry."

"Oh, that's good," Jane said, knowing it would not fix anything. "What did she say?"

"She laughed in my face," Billy snapped.

"Well, you can't blame her, really. You did a lot more than an apology can erase. But at least you made the effort."

He said, sitting down gingerly, "Yeah, well, whatever, she's not taking her story back, so it didn't do anything."

"You asked her to take back what she said?" Jane frowned. "Wait- Billy, is that the only reason you apologized? So she'd help you get out of trouble?"

"Yeah," Billy said, leaning back onto his bed. "Ugh," he breathed. He moved onto his side and lay hunched up in the fetal position.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Jane asked, looking at him.

"Nothing. Thanks for the shirt. Go away."

"Um...are you going to die?" She asked him.

"Not right now," he said. "But leave me alone, so if I do, I can go in peace."

"Seriously, Billy, what- did Gilbert kick you or something?"

"No, Fido did." Billy shut his eyes.

As long as Billy was shutting his eyes anyway, Jane felt free to grin about this.

"Okay, well, feel better. See you later."

"Wait- Jane," Billy said, opening his eyes. "Look, I get you're helping me with the shirt, but I'm still mad at you. You shouldn't have done that to me, you know? You made everything more complicated. It could have just gone away. We could have all moved past it."

Jane said softly, "Anne can't move past it."

Billy looked at her. "I don't see why not. She's making a huge outcry over nothing." He closed his eyes again, fighting nausea due to the pain of being kicked by Anne. "She needs to get over it."

"Well, that's going to be a little harder now, isn't it, since you went there and bothered her in her own home. You probably just scared her even more."

Despite his pain, Billy smiled just a bit. "If my life's going down the drain now with Father and Mother, at least I have some good memories to look back on."

Jane shook her head at him. But she felt light-hearted leaving his room, because she left holding a new-found treasure. His torn, bloody shirt was in her possession now.

She was not going to wash it for him, and she had no intention of replacing the buttons.

Instead, she rolled it up in an old pillow case and hid it in the back of her closet.

She had plans for that shirt.


	182. Explanations

"Gilbert's here," Matthew said as they reached Green Gables.

Mr. Blythe's buggy parked in front of their house did not surprise them.

"I'm glad," Marilla said- then she shook her head at herself. "I never thought I'd be pleased for Anne to have a boy come calling at her age…and letting them be alone together in an empty house! Doesn't seem the least bit proper."

Then Marilla sighed. "But I _am_ glad. I trust him, and I know she feels better when he's around."

Matthew nodded. "I hate to say it, but he's her only way to the outside world at the moment."

Marilla thought about that. "You're right…poor Anne. She likes going to Emily's house, so at least there's that. …But she ought to be able to go back to school and be around other children."

When they reached the front door, Matthew found that when he pulled the doorknob, he met with resistance.

"…I think the door's locked," he said, his pitch going up in surprise. He pulled it again.

"What do you mean, locked?" Marilla asked, as if that was a bizarre statement to have made. But when she pulled, she met with the same resistance.

She'd have looked in the window, but the curtains were pulled shut.

Matthew hesitantly tapped the window, bewildered at the strangeness of having to knock on their own front door.

It was only a few seconds before the front door was opened by Gilbert, with Anne at his side.

The four stared at each other a moment, each thinking very different thoughts, until Marilla said, "What's happening here?"

Gilbert pulled the door back and they came in. Marilla walked briskly in, looking around the room. She saw her quilt on the sofa. "Why is the quilt from my bed out here on the sofa?"

"I wanted to sit with it around me," Anne tried to explain. "I was-"

"You two weren't in my bedroom, were you?"

"Well, sort of," Anne tried to say. "But not-"

"Why did you have the door locked?"

Anne felt a sob rising in her, seeing that Marilla was already judging her for something she hadn't done.

Gilbert was starting to panic a bit himself, but seeing Anne upset made him be calm for her sake. "Miss Cuthbert, please, let me explain"-

But Marilla was not listening. She had walked further into the house. "Why are there bedsheets in the wash?" She asked sharply as she stepped into the other room.

Matthew said quietly, "Marilla, give them a chance-"

"We _trusted_ the two of you to spend time alone together, and we come home to a locked door and bedsheets in the wash! Clearly you were in my bedroom or you wouldn't have my quilt-"

"Marilla!" Matthew said, raising his voice for once.

Marilla stared at him, shocked.

Matthew said, quieter now: "You haven't let them get a word in edgewise. There could be a perfectly rational explanation and you're not going to find out what it is if you don't let them _say_ anything."

Marilla took a deep breath, realizing Matthew had a point. She looked at Anne and Gilbert. Anne had begun to cry.

"How could you _think_ that about me?" Anne said, crying. "How could you think I'd want to do _anything_ after what _happened_ to me? I never want to do _that_ again!"

That statement taking meaning, Marilla felt awful.

Matthew hugged Anne to his side, comforting her while giving Marilla a look.

Marilla felt guilty, now, for making Anne cry. She glanced at Gilbert. Gilbert looked like he was in over his head. "Miss Cuthbert, I would _never_ take advantage of the trust you put in me. I didn't come over here to- to-" Gilbert let out a breath, not knowing how to finish that sentence

Matthew cut in calmly, "Why don't we all sit down and you can explain. We'll listen, and we won't jump to conclusions." He looked at Marilla.

Matthew sat down, holding Anne close to him. She still had tears rolling down her face.

Gilbert wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but this present moment would not be the smartest time to initiate physical contact, so he resisted. He sat down on the couch next to her, but purposely left a wide distance between himself and Anne.

Marilla tried to calm herself. "All right," she said, sitting down across from them. "Now why are there bedsheets in the wash?"

Anne wiped her eyes. "Because they got blood on them."

"Blood? Why ever on earth was there blood on my sheets?"

"Because I got blood on them when I was in your bed." She took a shaky breath but was having trouble continuing, and would not look into Marilla's face.

"Uh…maybe I should take over," Gilbert said, thinking Anne was not beginning very well. "We _were_ in your room, Miss Cuthbert, but we didn't mean to end up there. We were in the kitchen, and-"

Anne cut in, "I wanted to make potato pancakes."

They all stared at her, the comment seeming to be completely irrelevant.

"And Gilbert went to the privy."

Gilbert bit his lip. He'd let Anne tell the story if she wanted to, but he hoped she'd do a better job finishing than she had starting. She did:

"Then Billy came in."

Marilla's hand went to her throat.

"He'd been running, I think."

"My word, when he stormed out of the Andrews' house…" Marilla breathed.

"He just walked right in?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert nodded. "He didn't even knock, did he, Anne?"

She shook her head.

Gilbert went on, "After we got him out, we locked the door."

Matthew looked at Marilla. Marilla looked like she felt awful. "Anne, Gilbert, oh, no. Of _course_ you locked the door."

Anne wiped her eyes. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't, and I'm sorry. I didn't give you any chance..."

Gilbert said, "I was still outside, so I didn't know what was happening in the house. I didn't know that Billy was here until I came back in and heard noise coming from your bedroom, Miss Cuthbert."

"He had her in my room?" Marilla asked, her face turning white. "Anne, he had you in my room?"

Anne shuddered. "I came out of the kitchen when I heard him come in. I turned the stove off first, Marilla. I was careful, really, and I only had the stove on because I wasn't alone, I know you don't like me using the stove when I'm by myself-"

Marilla shook her head impatiently. "Anne, that doesn't matter, go on with the-"

"It's _good_ you thought to turn off the stove, Anne." Matthew said kindly, giving her a squeeze.

Anne wiped her eyes. "Billy was in the living room. He started asking me to forgive him."

After a moment she said, "He said he _loved_ me." Tears sprang to her eyes all over again.

They waited for Anne to go on.

"I told him I forgave him because I thought he'd go _away_ then. But…then he wanted me to tell everyone that I was lying, that I'd _wanted_ to be with him."

She took a breath. "But I couldn't. I couldn't pretend I wanted that. And he got really mad."

"How did the two of you end up in Marilla's bedroom, Anne?" Matthew asked gently.

"Well, I kept backing up…to get away from him. Before I knew it I was at your door. And then he pushed me."

No one said anything.

"I fell on the floor." Anne looked up at them suddenly. "I thought he was going to do it all over again, Marilla! I was so-" But she started to cry again. Matthew held her close.

"When I came in, he was on top of her," Gilbert picked up where Anne had left off. "I don't know if he was going to go through with it or not, but he had her petticoat in his fists."

Marilla stood up. "That's it. We're going back over there and confronting them. Billy needs to be dealt with. No, actually- no, let's go to the _police_. Right now!"

Even Matthew was incensed, surprising them all with his outspokenness- he was visibly shaking with anger as he stood up, ready to leave. "We don't need police to deal with him. I'll deal with him myself."

"Don't go over there," Anne said, fresh tears coming. "Please just leave them alone! I don't want any of us to ever speak to them again. I don't want-"

The Cuthberts' weren't listening to her. Gilbert stopped caring about their opinion of him and moved close to Anne, taking her shaking hands into his.

"I'll beat him to a bloody pulp," Matthew said angrily, again surprising them.

Then Gilbert made a comment that startled them into listening: "Anne kind of took care of that herself."

They turned back to her, surprised.

Gilbert smiled a bit. "He left pretty shaken up. Anne got him good."

They sat down slowly, wanting to hear this.

"I couldn't stop him," Anne said. "Gilbert punched him. That's how I got out of it."

"Yeah, but after I stopped him, you took over," Gilbert said, squeezing her.

Marilla noticed how he'd moved to be close to Anne, but she was no longer upset by it. She now regretted saying anything about them being alone, as if _Gilbert_ had ever been the problem...

"What did you do?" Matthew asked.

"I wanted him to feel how _I_ felt," she said shakily. She looked up at them. "After Gilbert punched him in the nose, there was blood _all over_. I put my hand on his face... I didn't want to touch his face but I _had_ to, 'cuz that's where the _blood_ was. And I smeared it down his shirt. And then I ripped it…I ripped his shirt open…I know it sounds wrong but he left me with torn, bloody clothes and I just wanted him to know how it _felt!_ "

"Tell them what else you did," Gilbert said proudly.

"I kicked him." She did not say where.

Gilbert gave them a hint: "Suffice it to say, he had a hard time walking home."

Marilla looked like she wasn't sure if she should respond positively or with reproach. But Matthew was beaming at his daughter.


	183. Goodbye

"I should go," Gilbert finally said. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Not tomorrow," Anne said. "It's Monday. I'm going to Emily's in the afternoon and I won't be back till dinner time."

"Oh…right," he said, trying not to show how disappointed he was.

They stood a moment, not saying anything.

Gilbert finally turned to leave. When his hand was on the doorknob, Marilla said, "Uh, Gilbert...I owe you an apology."

He shook his head. "That's all right."

Marilla shook her head. "No, it's not. You were here for Anne once again, but I judged you harshly and didn't give you a chance to explain. …I'm grateful to you, Gilbert." Then she glanced at them, seeing their eyes were still connected to each other's, and said, "Anne, do you want to walk out with him?"

Anne practically bounced from her side. She walked with Gilbert to his buggy, with Marilla watching them from the window.

"I'm glad they're back, and I'm glad you told them everything," Gilbert said as they came to his buggy. "I hope you can feel safer now…maybe they can start keeping the doors locked. Um, Anne, listen…about before. Saying I love you. I know you said it back, but…"

"I meant it," she confirmed.

"I'm glad," he said, his smile looking like a sunrise.

But then he said quickly: "It doesn't mean anything has to _change_ , you know. I don't want you to think I'm angling for more- I'm happy enough just to be your friend."

Anne bit her lip. "Well," she said- realistically- "It isn't as if we could court, anyway. We won't old enough for a few years yet."

"Yeah…" Gilbert said.

They just stood there.

Then Anne said, "There's a step before courting."

"Oh, is there?" Gilbert didn't know anything about courting.

"Yes…boys just come calling. …Which I guess you're already doing, sort of. Although, when boys come calling, the girl's mother is supposed to stay there with them. And there's _intent_ …but if you _said_ you had the intent to court me, Marilla probably wouldn't let you come calling anymore, anyway! She'd say we're too young to even just do _that_ …"

Then she sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know why we're even considering anything coming of this, Gilbert…it's impossible."

"Why?"

She stared at him with dead eyes. "You're already being accused of terrible things just for being _seen_ with me."

"But I don't care about any of that," Gilbert said, his eyes glued to hers.

"You _should!_ I can't let myself ruin your reputation! I already _have_ , really. And if I end up with a baby, _ugh_ , Gilbert, you _can't_ -"

"Well, for your sake I hope you don't have one, but to me it doesn't make any difference," Gilbert said desperately, starting to reach for her hand but then stopping, knowing they were likely being watched.

Her eyes grew watery, feeling his love for her. But she shook her head, firming her resolve. "I like- I _love_ you, Gilbert. I don't want to do anything that's going to make your life harder!"

He looked so despondent that she couldn't bear to look at him anymore, and looked away, saying, "Besides, your father-"

"My father _adores_ you," he interrupted quickly _. And so do I,_ he thought.

"He's _so_ kind, but, he's in bad health. Imagine having to tell him I'm having a baby and then following it up with saying you intend for us to court!"

Gilbert hid a smile. "Well, I have news for you. I already told him you might have a baby-"

"Gilbert, you _didn't_ ," she said, furious. "How _could_ you?! I didn't want him to know! Why would you _do_ that to me?!"

"Calm down. He understood. And he's fine with it."

Anne shook her head at him, angry. "I can't believe you told him! And why on _earth_ would he be _fine_ with it?! That's…ridiculous!"

"He _is_ fine with it. And he told me you were perfect and I'd be a fool to let you get away." He smiled.

Anne's mouth was set in a firm line.

Gilbert said, "All right, if you're going to be mad at me, fine, go ahead and be mad, you can't ruin my mood. You already told me you love me, I'm on cloud nine now. I might never come down."

Anne shook her head, annoyed that her being angry at him was doing nothing. "You shouldn't have done that. But I'm not going to be mad at you, not today. …I'll be mad some other day."

"Well, let me know which day so I can put it on my calendar," Gilbert said. "I'll mark it with an X. Today will be marked with a heart."

Anne rolled her eyes at him. "You're _exasperating_."

Gilbert said, "Being in love makes men act like fools."

"Oh, stop. Go home. I don't want to look at you anymore."

Marilla thought they looked as if they were fighting, but they couldn't have been too angry, because a moment later Anne reached out and hugged him.

When Anne came in, she went straight to the kitchen to start wringing out the wet bedsheets.

"Anne," Marilla said, seeing her. " _Why_ is it that you decided to climb into my bed with blood on your hands?"

"I'm _sorry_ , Marilla. I wasn't in my right mind, truly. It just…seemed to make sense at the time."

Marilla shook her head. She walked back to the front door, intending to lock it.

But she stood at the door a moment. Then she opened the door and walked briskly- finally quickening her pace to a bit of a run- to catch up to Gilbert. "Gilbert! Gilbert?" she called.

Hearing her, he slowed the horses, bringing them to a stop.

"Miss Cuthbert?" he asked, turning toward her.

"Gilbert- there's one thing I didn't get a real answer to. _Why_ was Anne in my bed?"

Gilbert said, "Because she loves you." He saw her eyes soften, but he also realized it wasn't much of an answer, so he tried to explain: "Um…she just kept saying she wanted so badly for you to come home..."

Marilla felt herself becoming emotional at that, but it was nothing compared to what Gilbert said next:

"She said it was the only place she felt safe."


	184. Morality

Billy could hide his shirt, but not his face. When he came downstairs, his mother gasped at his swollen, purple nose.

"Billy!" she gasped, rushing to him. "You've been upstairs in your room and you didn't let us know you'd come home?! We didn't know where you went. You just stormed out! I was so worried! Where _were_ you? When did you come back in?" She hugged him tight, but he cringed because he was still in pain from being kicked earlier.

His mother pulled back from him. "What happened, darling?"

"Uh…"

"Sit down," she led him into the parlor.

Mr. Andrews stood up. "Son, where did you run off to?"

"I just…needed a breather," he said, the word coming to him because at this very moment he was struggling to breath normally. _God, she hurt me_.

"What happened to your face?" his father asked him.

Billy couldn't explain it away, so he decided to be honest. "Gilbert Blythe punched me."

His mother gasped and held him close again.

Mr. Andrews asked, "Where was this?"

Billy shrugged.

"Where?" his father asked, angrily.

"Green Gables."

"Why did you _go_ there?" his mother gasped. "Billy, stay _away_ from there! All they're going to do is try to make things worse for you…"

"I thought that if I could get Fido to forgive me, she'd drop the whole thing."

"Billy," his mother scolded. "No more _Fido_. Don't be unkind. We've got enough trouble as it is."

"Okay," Billy said.

His father said quickly, "And don't apologize to her. If you apologize, you've just admitted guilt."

"What did Anne say?" his mother asked, frightened.

"She just laughed at me," he said, leaving out what else she'd done. "And Gilbert punched me." He couldn't hide what Gilbert had done to him, but admitting he'd been beaten by a girl was too much for him.

"Gilbert was there?"

Billy nodded.

"And the Cuthberts' weren't…" Mr. and Mrs. Andrews trailed off, looked at each other.

"Harmon- she had a boy in even though they were gone," Mrs. Andrews said eagerly. "While the Cuthberts' are away, she has _boys_ into the house to be _alone_ with her!"

"Yes, that'll help us," Mr. Andrews said to his wife with relief.

Mr. Andrews turned to Billy with a stern look: "Billy, you did a terrible thing and I don't want you to think you aren't in trouble, but our first priority right now is to see that nothing happens to our family. We're not going to let that girl be our downfall."

* * *

Once Billy was back up in his room- with ice- Jane wandered in again.

"Did you wash my shirt?" Billy asked quickly.

"No," Jane told him. "You only gave it to me a little while ago. It takes more than a few minutes to get blood stains out, Billy. And then it'll take time to sew buttons on, too. I'll have to keep your shirt for a long time."

"Well how long does it take?" Billy asked impatiently.

"I don't know. A _long_ time. Maybe Mother would be able to do it faster? I'll give the shirt to her, and she can-"

"No, no," Billy said. "I can wait."

"Why do you care if they see your shirt, anyway? You just told them, downstairs, that you went over there and that Gilbert punched you."

"Yes, but I didn't tell them what Anne did."

"So?"

Billy looked annoyed with her. "If Gilbert hits me, it's just because he's being a jerk and believing Anne's lies. But if Anne hits me- what reason would she have to attack me like that, if I hadn't done something to her? No, I can't let anyone know she hit me."

"She's not Fido anymore?" Jane noticed.

"Nah…I gotta knock that off."

Jane started to leave. Then she turned back at the door and said, as it was just an offhand remark, "If you want to avoid the Cuthberts, you might want to make yourself scarce- they're coming back in a couple days to talk about the trial."

Billy frowned. "Trial? What trial?"

"The trial to decide what should happen to you."

"What should _happen_ to me?"

"I don't know, we'll have to wait for a judge to decide."

Billy sat up. "Jane, spill it already. What are you talking about?"

Jane tried not to smile. "I thought you knew. Oh, no, that's right- you ran out just before Miss Cuthbert talked about the trial." Jane continued, "Well, see, they have to go to court, because it was a crime."

Billy just stared at her. He had never thought of anything like that.

"So we'll all have to go to the city- all of us, Mother, Father, me and Prissy, Mr. and Miss Cuthbert, Anne, probably Gilbert, since he knows everything, oh and Ruby and her mother, too, I'm sure, since they'll want to witness against you- and a judge is going to ask Anne all about what you did to her."

"She's not going to tell," Billy defended. "She wouldn't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because she'd have to talk about intimate relations to strangers, in public! Her underwear being ripped…and blood coming out, and stuff like that. There's no way. She'd be too embarrassed."

Jane shrugged. "Oh, sure, it'll be embarrassing for her. But she might think a little embarrassment is worth it, if it makes you go away." Then she looked sad. "I'm really going to miss you, Billy, when you go to jail."

Billy looked angry. "I'm not going to jail! I didn't even do anything wrong!"

"I hope the judge agrees with you. Otherwise it'll be _so_ hard for Mother and Father, having to visit their son in prison...they'll be heartbroken."

Billy made a face. "This whole thing is stupid! And if a judge believes her he'll be stupid too."

Jane bit her lip. She didn't know what to say to that, but she thought of something else: "Have you decided what you want to do when you finish school? If you're not going to jail, I mean."

Billy was thrown off by the sudden switch of topics.

He shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. Why do you care, anyway?"

"Oh, well, don't worry, you'll figure it out soon. You don't really have that much time before you're done with school. …Better decide on a career where you'll make a really good salary, since you'll have to support Anne."

"She can deal with that baby on her own, I don't want anything to do with it."

"Oh," said Jane. "I wasn't even _thinking_ about the baby! There's that, _too_ , then."

Billy looked confused.

Jane saw his expression and was all too happy to explain. "Well, I forgot all about the baby. I was just thinking of how you'll have to support Anne herself. …Probably for the rest of your life."

"Why?"

Jane's eyes were wide and innocent. "Well, she isn't likely to marry, now. Most men wouldn't want to marry her, knowing about this."

She was enraged to see a flicker of amusement on his face.

"I wouldn't act like you think it's so funny, Billy!"

"No one was gonna marry that dog anyhow!"

Jane was indignant. "You should hope she gets married. Otherwise you're going to end up supporting her, no doubt about that."

"Why?" he asked, sitting up, annoyed. "She's with those crazy Cuthbert's now."

"You know they don't have a lot. And they're old. What happens when they're gone?"

"They'll leave her the farm. She can hire someone to run it for her."

"With what money? You know how farming is- just a couple bad crops and she could lose everything! Face it, unless Anne finds some man willing to marry her, she's not going to make it."

"She can get a job."

Jane nodded. "Sure. She talked about wanting to be a teacher."

"There you go, then."

"Let's wait and see how many schools are lining up to hire her. A lot of schools won't hire a lady teacher at all. And if they do, it's certainly not one who's married. Imagine what they'd say if a girl with a baby and no husband tried to apply! Actually, she may not even make it that far. Do you really think the school board will even issue her a teaching certificate in the first place?"

Billy was tired of thinking about Anne's situation. He turned away. "Then she'll find something else to do."

"Like what, Billy? Taking in laundry or something? She'll be awfully poor."

"Not my problem."

"That's where you're wrong. If a judge doesn't send you to jail, surely he'll at least make you give Anne some kind of payout. Or the Cuthbert's will _sue_ you and you'll _have_ to support her. You never thought about that consequence, did you? No one's going to wait for you to feel sorry and give her something- they'll _make_ you pay her."

"Well, I don't have any money, so the joke's on them."

"Right now you don't. Mother and Father will end up having to pay. And once you do start a career, it'll fall to you."

Billy stared at the ceiling.

"Don't you wish you hadn't done this in the first place?"

Billy rolled to face the other wall, away from Jane.

After a moment, he said, "Why did you tell Mother and Father what I did? You're supposed to do everything you can to protect your family. That's what we've always been taught, haven't we?"

Jane sat on his bed for a second. She patted his arm, but he wouldn't turn around to face her.

"Billy, I _am_ protecting you."

"Jane-"

"Just listen to me. You think protecting you means hiding what you did. I don't think so. I think protecting you means doing whatever I can to keep you from a terrible future."

Billy was quiet.

Jane went on, "When we were little kids and you did something bad, like…like push someone over on purpose, or try to throw rocks at birds or something like that, Mother and Father said 'boys will be be boys' and 'he'll grow out of it'. But you're not a little boy anymore, you're practically grown now, and no one's ever taken you seriously, no one's ever held you accountable for your actions or tried to make you see how you hurt people. I don't want you to keep living like that. I love you, Billy, and if it takes something serious- something like jail- to make you understand that you can't live your life that way…well, then that's what it'll have to take."

He didn't turn around or say anything, so Jane finally sighed, stood up, and left him.


	185. Not Alone

Anne sleeping in Marilla's bed that night was hardly a question.

"I'll drive over to the Perkins tomorrow and let Emily know you won't be coming," Marilla said as she pulled back the covers.

"I should go," Anne said, putting her pillow next to Marilla's. "Don't you think? I shouldn't cancel on her, especially with so little notice…she'll think I'm not reliable."

"She'll think nothing of the sort. She knows you wouldn't cancel on her without good reason."

"But I want to go…I think."

"I don't know, Anne. You don't want to stay home with us? I thought you might feel safer if we all three just stay in together tomorrow."

Anne hesitated. Then she snuggled down into the bed. "I don't really want to go anywhere at all. I just thought I should. But…I don't want to stay here, either."

"Well…there's no need to think about it tonight. Sleep on it and you can decide in the morning."

A few minutes after the lamp was out, Marilla said, "I hope you'll be all right. My room will hold some bad memories now, I suppose. If you change your mind and want to go up to your own bed, take my lamp with you so you won't stumble in the dark."

"I want to stay with you," Anne said, moving over so she'd be close enough to see Marilla's face if she should need to.

Marilla said, "I asked Gilbert why on earth you decided to get into my bed knowing your hands were covered with blood. …He told me you felt safe there."

It was a moment before Anne said anything- and then came a whisper: "It was the _only_ place."

Then she said, "But I _am_ sorry."

Marilla said, "You needn't be sorry. Stains on the sheets are a small price to pay for your sense of safety."

Anne snuggled next to Marilla. "Marilla…your room is scary now."

Marilla's heart dropped to her stomach.

"But _not_ your bed. And not when you're _here_."

That made Marilla feel better.

"But…the whole _house_ feels scary now. …It isn't _safe_. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't want to go to school or to church or into town…but I don't want to be _here_ , either."

Marilla did not have answers. Finally she said, to be practical- "This won't last forever. Soon things will go back to normal and you won't have such fears-"

" _Please_ don't leave me," Anne interrupted passionately. "Not _ever_. Can't you just stay with me _all_ the time?"

"Anne…" What could she say? She couldn't promise Anne she'd never leave the house. _We need a plan_ , she thought. To Anne, she said only, "I'm right here. Go to sleep, now- I won't leave you."


	186. A Safety Plan

The next day Anne decided she did want to go to Emily's house. Nothing bad had ever happened there. But she wanted Matthew and Marilla both to go with her on the drive there. And she worriedly told them they should lock the door before they left.

"We'll be just fine, Anne. Don't worry about a thing. You just help Emily and we'll be back round to get you before dinner."

" _Both_ of you?" Anne begged.

"Yes," Matthew said, giving her a bit of a hug. "We'll both come."

Emily, with Clara in her arms, was looking at them a bit strangely during this exchange.

But Anne finally turned to her, ready to leave her family, and baby Clara all but threw herself out of her mother's arms and into Anne's.

Anne laughed and the Cuthberts' were happy to see her feel at ease again.

"Anne, my goodness, I've never seen anyone else gain Clara's affections as hurriedly as you have! Why don't you take her up and play with her in the nursery?"

Anne went happily up the stairs with the noisy, babbling baby.

"Uh, Emily- might we speak with you a moment?" Marilla said quietly after Anne left.

"Of course, do you want to come in and sit down?" Emily asked.

"No, no, I just wanted to let you know Anne's had another upset recently and she's on edge. She seemed lifted up at the sight of Clara, so perhaps that's all it will take to do the trick...but I thought we should let you know."

"Poor dear, what's happened? Unless you feel it ought to be kept within the family..."

Matthew looked grim as Marilla said, "The boy that attacked her came round while we were out."

Emily's face was white.

"He didn't have a chance to do anything to her, but as you can imagine it frightened her greatly."

"I can see why! My word. Who is this boy? Do I know him?"

"Harmon Andrews' son- Billy."

"Can anything be _done?_ Perhaps the reverend could speak to his parents-"

"We're dealing with them, sort of. We're meeting with them tomorrow- we've threatened them with a trial in court. We don't want to put Anne through that, but we must do something, so that's what we've told them we plan to do...please don't mention any of this to Anne, but I felt you must know, since she's here with you and her nerves are a bit rattled."

Emily only nodded.

"I wasn't sure if we should allow her to come...I don't know how to keep her from feeling vulnerable."

"Don't let her think she _must_ , Miss Cuthbert," Emily said quickly. "It's easier to get things done if she's occupying Clara, but I can get along without her if need be. I don't want her to feel obligated."

"...I think we did the right thing, bringing her here. She seemed to brighten up the minute Clara wanted her."

Emily smiled.

Once home, Marilla began washing the dishes they'd used when they had lunch before they'd left to take Anne to the Perkins'.

As she washed and dried them, she thought about what to do. Deciding what to do about the Andrews wasn't enough- if Billy could be sent away, that would certainly be an enormous help. But even if he was sent all the way to the moon, Anne _still_ wouldn't feel safe. First she'd been made to realize that her own body could be intruded upon, and now, almost just as bad, that her _home_ could be intruded upon. This wasn't just a matter of how to make sure Anne was safe; this was a matter of how to make sure Anne felt that the world could be safe.

Marilla was serious about her idea that they needed a plan. _Specific plans for everything. I've got to help her feel safe in the world again. And that starts with feeling safe in our home. What can I do?_

When the dishes were done, she got a pencil and paper, in case she might need them, and sat down. _What's the first thing I need to plan?_ she thought.

 _...She can't sleep in her own bed. How do I fix that?_

Marilla got up and went to Anne's room. She looked at the bed. She stood there, thinking.

She shook her head and went back downstairs. She wasn't sure what to do about Anne's room yet, but she did know one thing immediately:

 _We need to keep the doors locked so she won't worry about anyone walking in unannounced. We'll have to keep them locked all the time. It'll be different; I can't think of the last time we did...but from now on we must never forget._ She made a note on her paper: _Tell Matthew we must remember to lock the doors._

She moved on to the kitchen. _Door, again,_ she thought. _Keep it locked. What else?_ Marilla didn't know if anything bad had happened in the kitchen. She'd have to ask Anne.

 _Windows_ , she wrote down. They'd have to be locked too, whenever they weren't open.

She glanced over at Matthew's room. Anne hadn't been in there, so she didn't need to make any plans there. It probably made Anne feel safe enough just to know Matthew would be in there if she needed him.

She dreaded the thought of her own room- what could she possibly do, there? Things had _happened_ there. She knew Anne felt safe in the bed, at least there was that. But what of the rest of the room?

She knew Anne had fallen on the floor, pushed by Billy. But she couldn't exactly remove the _floor_. What could she do?

She thought of the rug there, that Anne had surely fallen on. She jotted on her paper:

 _Replace the rug_.

She thought to herself, _Anne and I will go through the things in the trunk up in the spare room. I'll have her pick out a rug I've got saved in there, and we'll put it down in my room. We'll roll this one up and put it away._

But was that enough? She decided on another plan for the room: _We'll move the furniture around...if the furniture is re-arranged it won't feel like the same place. Let's see...we can move my dresser to the other wall, and I'll put this footstool over by the vanity. I'll ask her if she thinks we should change my bed to face the other window..._

Marilla left her room and went back up to Anne's room.

She sighed. She _still_ didn't know what to do about Anne being able to sleep up there. Should she move Anne downstairs permanently? No, there wasn't a place for her. She could sleep in Marilla's room for a while, but that couldn't go on forever- she needed to be able to sleep on her own.

Suddenly she had an idea. _Anne can take something of mine up to bed with her. A nightgown, a pillow, some clothes, something- whatever she wants. She can keep it with her at night and maybe that'll be a comfort to her._

But was that enough? No, she had to figure out how to keep Anne feeling safe in her bed.

Anne had said she did not like for the sheets to be tucked in at the end of the mattress- she felt too held down by them.

But if she _didn't_ tuck the sheet in, it just lay loose and became twisted up on her as she rolled around in her sleep.

 _How can I keep the sheet from moving around while she sleeps, if she doesn't like it to be tucked in anymore?_

Marilla sat down on Anne's bed, thinking. She touched the corners of the sheets.

Suddenly she had an idea. She stripped the bed of the top sheet and took it down to her sewing machine.

It didn't take her long to put her plan into action. She cut a small hole at the two end corners of Anne's sheets. She cut some fabric into strips and sewed them with buttons on the ends. She went back up and slipped the top sheet back onto the bed.

The two ends of the top sheet would be attached to the bedposts themselves. That way, the sheet wouldn't come off the bed or get rolled around, but it didn't need to be tucked in underneath the mattress.

Marilla was glad to have done something practical.

As she thought about what else she could fix, she knew that for a while, at least, she'd always have to be in Anne's sight. ...Anne had said she never wanted Marilla to leave her. But that wasn't realistic, and Anne needed to be able to be on her own sometimes. Marilla didn't know what to do.


	187. Conspire

On Monday morning before school began, Diana gave Gilbert a letter to take to Anne.

"Oh," Gilbert said, "I have one for you, too," he pulled a crumpled note from his pocket. "…Sorry," he said as he tried to straighten it out.

"That's all right. I'll have to throw it out after I've read it anyway. I wish I could keep her letters and read them again and again," Diana said sadly, "but I always put them in the fireplace so my mother won't find them. She's still telling me Anne is…unsuitable" Diana did not tell them the other word her mother had used to describe what kind of girl she thought Anne was.

Jane said quietly, "I wanted to write to Anne, too, but I was afraid. She must hate me."

Gilbert didn't know what to say. He didn't _think_ Anne would blame Jane for what her brother had done, though he couldn't be sure, and anyway- Jane was so close to the situation, but from the other side. "Why don't you write to her anyway? I'll see if she'll read it. You want to try?"

Jane bit her lip, nodding.

At lunch time, Jane sat over a piece of paper for a long time before she finally finished a note. And even after all that time, all it said was:

 _Dear Anne,_

 _I'm on your side._

 _-Jane_

When school was letting out, Jane asked, "I wanted to know if you two could help me with something. …Are you going to Anne's house?"

"No," Gilbert said. "I don't go on Mondays and Wednesdays anymore. She spends most of the afternoon taking care of someone's baby, and by the time she's done it's dinnertime, so…" He looked despondent, as if even two afternoons a week was too many to spend away from Anne.

Diana was watching him with interest.

Jane said, "Well, good, then. See I've got a plan…sort of. I'm not exactly sure how to carry it out. I was hoping you two could help me. Let's get our things and I'll tell you about it while we're walking."

But when Gilbert went to get his coat and put it on, Ruby popped up in front of him. "Gilbert, is Anne ever coming back? It's awfully hard to get things planned when I can't even _consult_ with her."

Gilbert almost laughed; _Consult_ had been on the spelling list for the week.

"Well, Ruby, guess what? Anne wants you to come over some time. I'll ask her which day, okay? I know it won't be on a Monday or a Wednesday, though."

Ruby almost jumped up and down. "Good. I'll have to ask my mother, but I'm sure she'll let me. She's all right with you two, remember? She says as long as there's a marriage before any baby comes she won't make us stop being friends."

Gilbert sighed. "That's great, I'm glad." But he thought, _I don't know if there's going to be a baby or a marriage, but if there is, they're going to happen in the wrong order._

He said goodbye to Ruby and went back to Diana and Jane.

"What did you want us to do, Jane?" Diana was asking.

"I have something we can _use_. To help Anne."

Jane waited until most of the school room was empty before she went back into the cloakroom and pulled something from her coat pocket.

"What _is_ that?" Diana asked in disgust, seeing the blood.

"I know what it is," Gilbert breathed. "I've got the buttons."

"Do you?" Jane said with relief. "That's good."

"What are you _talking_ about? What _is_ that? And why is it covered in blood?" Diana asked, her nose wrinkled.

"It's my brother's shirt," Jane explained. "He went to bother Anne and Gilbert punched him and Anne ripped his shirt-"

Diana interrupted. "Wait, wait, what? When was this?"

"Only yesterday," Jane said. "The Cuthberts came over to tell my parents about what Billy did and of course they denied it, but I made Billy confess. I dragged him out and told everyone." She looked triumphant, but only for a moment, until her face turned remorseful and she said- "But that's what got him so angry- if I hadn't done that, he never would have gone over there…"

Gilbert spoke up. "You did the right thing, Jane. Telling was right. What Billy did afterward wasn't your fault."

"What happened?" Diana asked quietly, fearing the worst.

Gilbert said, "He…came into the house without knocking and pushed Anne on the floor. I walked in to him on top of her with her petticoat in his hand."

Diana's hand flew to her mouth. "He didn't…"

Gilbert shook his head.

"This is just _awful!"_ Diana exclaimed. "I wish my mother could understand…it isn't fair for Anne, she's gone through so much and she's _alone_ \- except for you, Gilbert- but I mean she doesn't have me _with_ her and-"

"And she wants to," Gilbert finished. "She misses you, Diana. But I think Jane's figured out a way…haven't you, Jane?"

Jane smiled at them. A real smile, confidant and excited. "I _think_ so. But I need your help…"


	188. Not More, Just Differently

After the three discussed possible plans at length and settled on a course of action, Jane left them to go home.

Gilbert walked with Diana toward her house, because he was going to drop off her letter at Green Gables. Despite living so close, it wouldn't do for Diana to bring over her own letters, not if there was any chance her mother would find out.

When Gilbert said he'd walk in her direction to take the letter, Diana said, "Anne won't be there, though. You said she's gone on Mondays and Wednesdays. You may as well wait to give it to her until you see her tomorrow. Then you won't have to make the extra walk."

Gilbert looked as though that statement depressed him. "I know," he sighed. "But when she gets home, she'll see your letter and it'll make her happy. I don't want to wait till tomorrow, not if I can make her happy today."

Diana smiled to herself.

After a moment she said, "You've gotten really close to Anne, haven't you?"

"She's my best friend now," he said quietly.

Then he looked up. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. _You're_ her best friend."

"There's no reason she can't have two best friends," Diana said.

"You don't mind? She's kind of been mine in secret…if you don't mind sharing her."

Diana shook her head. "I don't have to share her, Gilbert- There's room for both of us. She loves you, - I just know she does."

Gilbert couldn't hide his feelings and said quietly- "She told me she did."

"She did?" Diana asked in surprise, turning to him with wide eyes.

"I said it first," he said, then frowned and said, "I was worried that she just said it because _I_ said it, or because she was upset at the time, but I don't think so- it seemed genuine."

But then he turned to Diana and said, "I guess I was worried you'd think that I was trying to steal your best friend away from you, what with all the time we've spent together. …I hope you never thought she loves me more than you, or anything like that. Because she _doesn't_ , she loves _you_ more."

Diana looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a little smile playing on her lips as she said, "I don't think it's a matter of loving one person _more_. I think it's a matter of loving one person _differently_."


	189. A Place To Be

Marilla looked at the clock and sighed. "I'm sorry supper will have to be late tonight, Matthew, but I can't really begin cooking until after we pick Anne up from the Perkins. She's so set on us both going together to pick her up, and I wouldn't want to leave the oven on while we're gone."

"Oh, that isn't any trouble," Matthew told her.

Marilla asked, "Do you think the plans I made are _enough?_ Locking the doors, changing my room around, and all that? …Do you think of anything else we might try?"

Matthew shook his head. "Don't know what else we can do. Other than just be with her, is all."

"Yes," Marilla said, nodding. "I'm worried about the long term, though, Matthew. We can't be by her side every moment. And at some point, I'd like her to return to school."

"How do you think tomorrow will go, with the Andrews?" Matthew asked.

"Not well, I expect. But we must keep up the charade of a trial. It's really our only defense…" Marilla felt hopeless, wishing something more could be done.

"Well, it's time to get her," Matthew said with a glance at the clock. He stood up, feeling an ache in his back as he rose.

Marilla got her shawl from the hook by the door. "I have an idea. Since we can't rely on the Barry's, and we don't want to leave Anne home alone tomorrow while we go to the Andrews, let's ask Emily if she could have Anne come tomorrow _instead_ of Wednesday. It's only one day different, and if we leave her there she'll never wonder where we went. She won't even know we're gone. I thought about asking Rachel to come stay with her, but Anne might enjoy the time better at the Perkins'. When we get there, I'll find an unobtrusive way to ask Emily."

"That's an idea," Matthew said. "A good one. I didn't know what we ought to do. Leaving her alone- even with the doors locked- just can't be done."

"Right. And if we were going _after_ school hours, I'd see if she could go with Gilbert over to _his_ house- though perhaps she shouldn't, I don't know how well his father is at the moment. …But of course we _must_ go when school is in session so that the Andrews children aren't there when we discuss this, either."

"I don't want Billy in school, but I'll be glad he's in school tomorrow," Matthew said gruffly. "Because if he would be there when we go to the Andrews tomorrow…I don't trust myself, Marilla."


	190. Holding the Cards

Tuesday's meeting was tense, more so for the Andrews than the Cuthberts'.

"So…regarding what to do. Now that we know the circumstances-"

"Now that you know what your son did, you mean." Marilla said flatly.

"Yes, well… We don't want this to be…unnecessarily complicated."

"What do you mean by that?" Marilla asked, already feeling defensive.

"When you threatened to take our son to court over this, we consulted with our personal attorney. And we've been told it's almost positive Billy would _not_ be found guilty," Mr. Andrews said, just a hint of smugness to his voice.

Marilla and Matthew didn't know what to say to that, because unfortunately, Mr. Andrews was right.

Mr. Andrews said, "But, we'd rather it stay out of the courts, even though Billy _would_ be found innocent of this."

"Oh, really?" Marilla remarked. She and Matthew had no plan to take Billy to court and put Anne through a trial, either, but she wasn't going to let the Andrews know that.

Mr. Andrews said, "A trial would be…unpleasant. For everyone, really. It would be in the papers…and I'm sure you don't want Anne having her name printed in the paper knowing that her claims will be dismissed as being untruthful. It won't look good for her."

"It'd be in the newspaper…" Marilla held onto that one little tidbit Mr. Andrews had briefly mentioned. She had not thought about newspaper coverage of a trial. "You don't care about Anne's name being in the paper- you just don't want _Billy's_ name in it! You're just worried about his reputation! Not about the evil he's done, just about his own reputation. Well, it's good to know where your priorities are," Marilla said angrily.

"It would really just be in _everyone's_ best interest to handle the matter _privately_ , rather than doing anything to make it even more public than it's already become," Mrs. Andrews said softly. "If we could just handle it _ourselves_ , between our two families…"

"How _exactly_ do you think it should be handled, then, between us families, as you say?" Marilla asked, trying not to show how on edge she felt.

Mr. Andrews told them, "We think we can reach an agreement suitable to all…we are prepared to offer you compensation."

" _Compensation?!"_ Marilla asked, her voice sharp.

"The matter could be easily smoothed over with a financial-"

Marilla was angry. "You think you can buy us off? Offering us 'hush money' so we won't bring your son to court?" she asked. "Well you can't. Your money won't do a bit of good to Anne."

"Perhaps not," Mrs. Andrews said humbly.

But Matthew put his hand out, touching Marilla's arm. Marilla looked back at him. "I don't feel we have a right to say no to it. It isn't for us, it's for Anne."

"Matthew, surely-"

"I don't want them to think money can fix anything, because it _can't_ ," Matthew explained, giving the Andrews a hard look. But to Marilla, he said: "But _if_ Anne feels Billy owes her something for all the hardship he's put her though, then she ought to get whatever it is she feels she's owed. So let's let _her_ make that decision."

Mrs. Andrews suggested, "We…we could put it in the bank. Under her name. And she can withdraw it if she so chooses. If she doesn't want it, she can…she can donate it to charity, or…or she can just leave it sitting in the bank forever. But it'll be there waiting if she ever needs it."

 _Or she can drop each dollar into the fireplace and watch the Andrew's money burn_ , Marilla thought.

Marilla still didn't like the idea, but Mrs. Andrews brought up the baby. "Even if Anne doesn't want the money for _herself_ ," she said, speaking haltingly, "The fact is, it is _because_ of our son that she will have expenses very soon…and…and money would be useful in caring for the…" Mrs. Andrews stopped; she could not bring herself to say the word 'baby' and she just tried to keep her voice from breaking as she said, "Billy has a duty to- to- provide-"

Matthew hated to agree with them, but he pointed out, "It isn't right for Anne to bear that cost herself, they should be helping her."

" _We_ will help her!" Marilla said sharply.

"Yes, of _course_ we will," Matthew said calmly. "But that baby would be owed something, too."

Although he didn't show it, Matthew was actually very offended at the offer of money. The fact that they thought money could solve this was appalling to him. There could be no 'compensation' for what had been done to Anne.

But he was trying to keep in mind that this wasn't about his feelings and it wasn't about Marilla's feelings; it was about Anne. He did not want to be so quick to refuse the Andrews' offer- he wanted to leave the door open for Anne to get anything she might feel she deserved.

But Marilla was too angry to be thinking that far into it. And Marilla wanted to ask Matthew, _whose side are you on?!_ But before she could speak a word, Matthew spoke up and said something else:

"Your money's not enough, though. We want Billy to leave school."

Everyone- including Marilla- stared at him, not only surprised that he spoke so confidently, but that he'd raised his voice to sound like he wasn't meant to be trifled with.

Mr. Andrews sputtered, "What do you mean, leave school? He can't leave school!"

Matthew said only, "He can."

Matthew had not discussed this idea with Marilla beforehand, but Marilla was only too happy to latch onto it. "He could be sent away to a boarding school," she suggested.

Mrs. Andrews was already emotional, but now she spoke tearfully and said as if Billy was still a young child, "My Billy's never been away from his mama before…I don't like the thought of sending him away to school…"

"Then don't send him away to school. Keep him home with a tutor. Or teach him yourself," Marilla said. "Frankly, we don't care what you do with him, as long as he is removed from Anne's classroom."

Mr. Andrews suggested, "Why don't you have _Anne_ sent to a school? She was used to living in an orphanage, so it surely wouldn't be difficult for _her_ to live away at a school dormitory."

"But the baby, Harmon…" Mrs. Andrews said.

Mr. Andrews said, "A nanny could be hired so that Anne can go away to school."

Mrs. Andrews felt new hope at this idea, suggesting, "It would probably be better that way, wouldn't it? Then, after the baby is born, she'd be in a place where no one would _know_ she'd had a baby."

Marilla started to say there was no baby- at least not that they _knew_ of- but she stopped herself. They had decided they would not confirm _or_ deny, since they didn't know anything for certain yet.

Mrs. Andrews went on, still sounding hopeful: "There are some very prestigious boarding schools on the east coast! We could find out what the _best_ one would be. If it's a matter of _money_ , Mr. and Miss Cuthbert, we would happily pay for her to attend!"

Matthew was firm: "Anne's not going anywhere. Billy is."

Marilla couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to. She was too shocked at Matthew leading the topic of conversation and speaking out so boldly like this. …Last time they were with the Andrews, she couldn't get Matthew to say a word when she needed him to.

"But-" Mr. Andrews sputtered.

Marilla spoke up now, sounding a bit haughty: "If it's a matter of money for _you_ , then use the money you were going to give Anne, and pay for tuition or a private tutor for Billy that way."

The Andrews were quiet.

"We've been keeping Anne home because it isn't right for her to have to be near him. And we will continue to keep her home until you remove Billy from school. When do you think that will be?" Marilla asked.

"Now wait just a minute-"

Matthew interrupted. "If you won't agree to keep him home, then perhaps we ought to go to trial after all."

Mr. Andrews was angry. "You won't _win_."

Matthew shrugged. "Whether we win or not, Billy's name will still be in all the newspapers."

"So will Anne's," Mr. Andrews pointed out.

Matthew leaned back, crossing his arms. "We're all right with that. Are you?"

The Andrews stared at him. They'd been beaten.


	191. Sign of the Times

"I can't believe you think money is an appropriate way to handle this," Marilla said huffily as they drove away from the Andrews' home.

"I _don't_ ," Matthew said. "I just felt it wasn't up to _us_."

After a moment, he said, "We don't know how Anne would feel about it, and it's her feelings we ought to be considering."

Marilla didn't say anything. She thought that made sense, but she didn't _want_ to think he was right.

"But no, Marilla, I wanted to throttle his neck when he said the word 'compensation'."

Marilla was almost amused by this. "My, whatever happened to quiet, gentle Matthew!"

"He had a _child_." Matthew answered gruffly.

Marilla remarked, "I've heard having a child makes you feel things you've never felt before, but I didn't think one of them would be _fury!_ "

"Just the thought of her being harmed…" Matthew said softly, shaking his head. His hands trembled as he held the reins.

Marilla smiled. Then she asked, "How's your back doing?"

"You knew it was bothering me?" he looked at her.

"Of course I did," she told him. "You're moving slow lately."

"I'm all right- just keeps tightening up on me," Matthew said. "Don't tell Anne, I think it's just…"

"Stress?" Marilla asked. "I've been tense, too. I notice muscles aching when I think about all this. I hope it will all come to an end soon."

They were quiet a moment.

"About the money," Marilla said.

"Hmm?"

"I suppose if there is a baby, then it would be all right for her to accept it. But otherwise…"

"She still can't be sure?" Matthew asked.

Marilla thought about it to herself first:

 _I told her about the early warning signs Rachel explained to me- feeling tender in the bosom, having swollen feet, an urgency to pass water, cravings or aversions to foods, and so on…and she said no…she said no to_ _ **all**_ _the early signs, actually._

 _And while that certainly makes me feel better, I cannot feel rested because of her womanly flowering time. Anne only had that very first visit from Mother Nature. She told me that on the following month- the month just after the attack- she didn't have one at all. And then a couple of weeks ago she only had some light bleeding that she said wasn't the same as the first time. …It's been three months now, but she's only had two times of bleeding..._

 _I couldn't bear to tell her_ _ **why**_ _I was asking about it. …She knows that the bleeding is something that happens to your body to prepare for a baby, but she still doesn't know that a_ _ **lack**_ _of bleeding indicates the presence of a baby._

 _Dr. Carter said that it may mean nothing- a young girl's cycles sometimes take a while to fall into a regular pattern. …And stress can cause missed times, as well. I hope that's all it is._

 _If she misses it again, I suppose I'll have to tell her what that means. But for now- since she has no other symptoms at all- I'll wait and hope for the best_

To Matthew, she said only, "No news yet, I'm afraid."

Matthew's face was lined with worry.

"I _doubt_ there's a baby, Matthew, really," Marilla tried to assure him when she saw that he was rubbing his back again.

They drove on in silence for a while, until Matthew said quietly, "While they were talking on, this picture came into my head…of the Andrews in all their finery, and Anne- grown up, with us gone- _struggling_. …Suddenly, didn't seem right for Billy to keep all the Andrews have, if Anne would go in need."

He stared ahead at the road that stretched out before them.

 _I don't want us to accept anything from them- except a promise that Billy will never set foot inside Avonlea school again. But I suppose if a baby is coming…all right, Matthew. …If only because it will provide you some peace of mind._

* * *

And so Marilla resignedly accepted that the money could be Anne's, _if_ there was a baby to care for. But later that afternoon while Anne was gone, Marilla took the opportunity to visit Rachel, and Rachel pointed out some hard truths that left Marilla believing that maybe a baby wasn't the only thing that necessitated money for Anne.

"He was upset by it, but he didn't show it. He thinks we ought to let Anne decide." Marilla told Rachel, accepting a cookie from the plate Rachel handed her.

"What do _you_ think?" Rachel asked.

Marilla sighed. "I suppose I can concede- if she is having a baby- that they could give her something, to help with _that_. I still don't like it, though."

"Well," Rachel said diplomatically, "It seems only fair that the cost of a child shouldn't fall just to your side."

"I suppose not," Marilla sighed, shaking her head as Rachel poured her more tea. "But- if there's no baby, I don't want us taking their money."

"Why not?" Rachel asked.

Marilla was surprised. "Rachel! I don't want the Andrews to think Billy can be absolved of guilt just because they gave Anne some money!"

"You do realize that even _without_ a baby, her life's been changed forever," Rachel said plainly.

Marilla stared at her. Then she said, "It doesn't _have_ to be. She'll start to feel better, and things will return to normal."

"If Anne moves away, maybe."

"She doesn't need to move away! What are you talking about?"

"She's gained a reputation not easily lost. People already didn't trust her- being an orphan- you know I myself didn't, Marilla! But after all _this_ …even the people who _believe_ she was attacked might still blame her for it happening in the first place."

"I would hope people would have more sense…" Marilla said.

Rachel looked sorry. "…I don't know whether I ought to tell you, but I've heard people say that Anne must have _tempted_ the boy for him to want to do that to her."

"That's preposterous!" Marilla said angrily.

Rachel was quiet. "How likely is it, knowing this, that she'll marry in Avonlea?"

"…Marriage is years away- if at all. By the time she's old enough to marry, perhaps this will all be in the past and forgotten."

Rachel looked doubtful.

Marilla told her, "Anne said she thought she'd _never_ marry. Maybe she'll be a lady with a career! She wants to be a teacher, and she'd make an _excellent_ one."

"Now look, Marilla," Rachel said patiently. "I don't know if she'd have married or not, but she has to have _some_ way of supporting herself- whether it's a husband or a profession, and Billy may have taken _both_ of those things from her: The school board discusses the morality of the candidate and will hardly see fit to issue her a teaching certificate if they believe the attack was of her doing." Rachel softened her voice and said: "…It might be easier for her to move away from Avonlea- some place where they don't know her past."

There was silence.

Marilla said finally, "She can stay here in Avonlea. Whether she has a job or a husband or not…she'll still have Green Gables."

Rachel nodded. "Yes, and what is she to do if the crop fails?"

Marilla said, "That's the way of farming, I know…It's unpredictable. One season of bad weather can upset your income for the whole year…and beyond..."

Rachel said, not sounding very confident, "I suppose she could take in boarders if need be, but I wouldn't like the idea of strangers in the house _alone_ with her. Especially if they'd be men here for work in Avonlea. It's less common to have just lady boarders, you know."

"No," Marilla said slowly. "I wouldn't like that, either." Then she said, "I'd feel differently about boarders if she wasn't _alone_ …"

"So you see, now, don't you?" Rachel asked. "Accepting money from them isn't ideal, but the facts are the facts: that boy took away her earning potential, all but ruined her chances to find gainful employment, and possibly even hurt her courtship prospects. Her future won't be the same now. There are costs he should recoup."


	192. Settled Accounts and Imaginary Surprises

As they drove to pick Anne up from the Perkins', Marilla said to Matthew, "I think you're right about accepting the money."

"Does that mean…"

"Oh, no," Marilla said. "No baby revelations. But I think we should take it regardless."

Matthew was surprised. "What changed your mind?"

"Uh…Rachel pointed out some things I hadn't thought of," Marilla said slowly, the conversation from earlier that day bothering her. She suddenly thought, "Let's drive over to the Andrews right now. Quickly. Before we go to the Perkins."

"We'd be a little late to get Anne. You don't think she'll worry?" Matthew asked as he turned the buggy around.

"She's with Emily, I think she'll be all right. I just think it would be best to deal with this and confirm everything before they have a chance to change their mind."

Matthew nodded, and had the horses move faster.

Once at the Andrews, they rang the bell, and saw a face looking out of the curtains. Jane.

 _Poor girl,_ Marilla thought. A moment later Mr. Andrews was at the door.

"Yes?" he asked coldly.

Marilla spoke up. "We've decided it would be all right for Anne to accept the money."

Mr. Andrews looked relieved. "Does that mean you'll not pursue-"

"Oh, no, we still intend to take Billy to trial, unless you remove him from school. Do you have a date yet?" Marilla asked

Mr. Andrews breathed out, angrily. He turned around as Mrs. Andrews came up to the door. "Children, go upstairs," she said quietly, not wanting them to hear what was being said.

"We can't possibly take him out of school _yet_ ," Mrs. Andrews said softly. "We'll need time to find a good tutor, and-"

"We took Anne out of school with no other accommodations made for her," Marilla pointed out. "There's no reason you can't take him out before you've hired someone."

Mr. Andrews said, "You're being unreasonable."

" _We're_ being unreasonable?!" Marilla began.

Mrs. Andrews touched her husband's arm gently. "Harmon, let's go to the bank _now_ and handle this money issue. _Right this moment_. And while we're in town we'll pick up a newspaper so we can start scanning the ads. And I can place an ad…"

Mr. Andrews looked at his wife.

She looked sick. "Please, Harmon. I just want this over. Let it be over with."

His eyes softened. "All right."

"Look, we'll do that now," he finally said to the Cuthberts. "And since you see that we intend to take care of it today, can you at least give us to the end of the week?"

"Friday will be his last day, then?" Marilla asked curtly, not allowing them any leeway.

Mrs. Andrews touched her forehead as if she felt faint. "Yes. Yes, you can plan to put Anne back in on Monday." Her eyes filled with tears and she choked out, "I'll get my hat and we'll go into town right now. …We can stop by to tell you about the account."

"We don't want you approaching our house. Not where Anne will have to see you."

Mrs. Andrews took a shaky breath. "Then come to our house. We'll have the papers ready for you."

The Andrews told their children they'd be back soon, and got into their buggy to go.

Matthew and Marilla watched them leave, and then got back into their buggy to go get Anne.

"You think they'll really do it?" Marilla asked Matthew as he started the horses.

Matthew watched after them. "Don't know," he said. "I guess we'll see. Let's get to Anne now before she worries."

Anne surprised them by hugging them both when they arrived to pick her up.

She didn't ask why they were a bit late, but Marilla explained to Emily they suddenly remembered an errand they needed to run.

"Did you have a nice time with Clara?" Marilla asked as they climbed into the buggy to go home.

"Yes," Anne said. "Emily had a catalog of children's things and she sent away for books for Clara! They just came in this morning, and she didn't open them when they came in, she said she was waiting because she thought I might like open the package. It was thrilling, because they're just _beautiful_. Absolutely, positively, scrumptiously beautiful. There's one of fairy tales and the pages have _gold edges_ , Marilla! I thought it was _real_ gold at first, but Emily said it isn't, it only _looks_ that way. And then there's one of the kind of prayers we learn in Sunday school. And the other one is sort of like a reader, with little short stories and poems that all rhyme, but it's better than a reader because there are great big painted pictures. I've never seen books with big colorful pictures in them. I know they're meant for little children, but I had _so_ much fun getting to see them. Clara liked them too, but I had to hold them where she couldn't reach them because whenever she liked a picture she tried to grab it in her little hands and it wouldn't do to have the pages ripped. And she'd _eat_ the books if she could, Marilla, she puts everything in her mouth."

Marilla was amused. "That's what babies do, I'm told."

"Oh, I know. Anyway, she has a real silver rattle with her initials engraved on it. She has an aunt who's never even _seen_ her and _that's_ the gift she sent. Real silver! Imagine sending a present like that to someone you've never even laid _eyes_ on! Clara's _awfully_ lucky. Why were you late picking me up?"

Marilla was startled that Anne's speech about Clara ended with a question about where they had been.

She glanced at Matthew. "Oh, we just got a late start."

"But you told Emily you had an errand to run," Anne said.

"We went into town to buy something," Marilla explained quickly.

Anne looked behind them. The back of the wagon was empty.

"But we ended up not buying it after all," Marilla finished lamely, seeing her.

Anne frowned.

Matthew said suddenly, "We didn't buy it after all because we wanted to wait till we had you with us. It's for you."

"For _me?_ " Anne asked excitedly. "What _is_ it?!"

Marilla didn't know what to say. They'd talked themselves into a corner. Finally she looked helplessly at Matthew and finished, "It's…a surprise."

"Ooh, a _surprise_ ," she said. "I'm _glad_ you're not telling me! If you told me, I'd be thrilled of _course_. But when one doesn't know what something will be, there's _mystery_ in it. It could be _anything!_ But…will you give me a little hint maybe? Just so I know what I might like to _start_ imagining?"

"No," Marilla said brusquely. "If it's a surprise then you'll just have to wait. No more about it now."

Anne asked, turning her topic of conversation from her "surprise" to what was currently happening in her life, "Are you all done talking to the Andrews?"

"No, we'll be meeting again," Marilla said. "Why?"

"I wondered…I wondered what you talk about…"

"Oh," Marilla said. She and Matthew looked at each other.

"Marilla?"

"Well, we talk about…different things. Like…school. And what ought to happen to Billy."

"What'll happen?" Anne asked worriedly.

"We haven't got it worked out yet," Marilla said, not wanting to promise Anne she could go back to school until it was absolutely guaranteed.

Anne didn't understand that. "What do you mean, 'work out'? What's going to happen?"

Matthew said abruptly, "Let's talk about your surprise."


	193. Another Step Closer

Note- I had no idea what to call the chapter, I just called it "another step closer" because we are getting closer to the end soon.

* * *

Gilbert had missed Anne today, he'd gone to Green Gables after school and no one was home. She was normally only away on Mondays and Wednesdays, so he was disappointed she was gone on a Tuesday, too. She hadn't told him they were going anywhere, but perhaps she didn't know.

 _That'll be three whole days without her,_ he thought as he turned away sadly. He never knew three days could be such a long time.

* * *

"Well, it's good we're taking the Andrew's money, after all," Marilla said with a touch of sarcasm, "Since you've promised Anne you're going to buy out the whole store for her!"

"I have not," Matthew defended. "I just gave some hints about what it might be."

"Yes, but none of your hints go together. We'll have to buy at least four or five things in order to meet all of the 'hints' you gave her. You know, we can't exactly afford 'surprises' at the moment. Things have been tight for us this year."

"I'm _aware_ ," he told her.

"So what do you think we should do- take her into town and I can go with her into a shop and keep her occupied there while you take the buggy on over to the Andrews?"

"I'll say I have to…buy something for the horses," Matthew said, "So she won't wonder why I went off on my own."

Marilla nodded slowly. "You know, this will be good, actually, because she hasn't been anywhere at all, and she's afraid to go into town. If we can lure her into town with a 'surprise', it will help her see that being out and about in the world isn't so scary after all."

"I just hope no one _says_ anything to her," Matthew said sadly. "Marilla, keep her close by you so no one can say something to her that you won't hear."

"I will," Marilla said. "Now what in the world are our 'surprises' supposed to be?"

* * *

The next afternoon, Matthew and Marilla found that Anne no longer wanted her surprise.

"I don't _want_ to go into town. I'm sure the surprise is perfectly lovely and generous and I'm exceedingly grateful- _truly_ \- but I'd rather not have it _at all_ than go into town," she begged, "Please don't make me go!"

"Don't be silly. Matthew's planned a lovely surprise for you and you must go and get it," Marilla said firmly. "Here's your hat. It's warm enough for just your shawl now, you won't need your coat. In the buggy, now- let's go."

Anne could have cried. "But if I go into town people will look at me!"

"You're not the only person in town, Anne, there will be plenty of other things for people to look at besides you."

Anne stomped out of the kitchen.

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other. They went and got in the buggy. Anne was sitting in the middle with her arms crossed.

"I hope you know you're about to cause me a _lifetime_ of shame," she said. "I will never forget this, as long as I _live_."

"Don't be so dramatic! You can't go the rest of your life without _ever_ going into town," Marilla said firmly.

Anne did not say one word as they drove. Marilla always thought she'd enjoy some peace and quiet from Anne's usual chatter, but now she found herself wishing Anne would say _something_. She watched her as they drove. Anne's face gradually changed as they drove closer to town; her anger melted away into fear.

As they pulled onto the main street, Anne shrank back between them. Matthew stopped the buggy to let them out in front of the general store. "Go on in and see what the surprise is," Matthew said, trying to sound cheerful.

Marilla waited for Anne, who wouldn't budge. "Come on now."

Finally Anne stepped down out of the buggy. "You don't have to hide behind me, Anne," Marilla said impatiently, taking her hand and making her walk right beside her.

They went into the store. Anne seemed intent on being an unnoticeable as possible, but there were very few people in the shop and no one was paying attention to her. In her view, though, all eyes were on her.

As Matthew drove away- heading for the Andrews to retrieve the papers they'd need- Marilla turned to Anne and asked pleasantly, "Now let's see about your surprises."

"There's more than one?" Anne asked, startled.

"Well…uh, how many hints did Matthew give you?" Marilla asked. "Tell me what they were again. I've forgotten."

"He said it was small…and green. And that it had ruffles. Oh…and that part of it was yellow. And it was round. And it would look nice in my room and be good to take to school."

 _Goodness, Matthew. Why did you go on so long?_ But Marilla already knew the answer to that. _Anne kept asking about our talks with the Andrews, and Matthew kept adding more to detract her attention._

Marilla glanced around the store. What was she to do? She spied a shelf of books and took Anne over to it. Anne felt excitement bubble up inside her. She knew now that the surprise was a book, and she was impatient to see which book it might be.

But as Marilla scanned the shelf, she saw that the only book that was both small _and_ green was a manual on new techniques in blacksmithing. "Well," she said to Anne, "The small thing is a different surprise. But the green thing is a book. You look and tell me which one you think Matthew wanted to get for you."

Anne was delighted. "Was it this one?" she asked, pointing out the only book there that could possibly be for young people. "Alice in Wonderland?"

"That's it," Marilla said with relief.

"Oh, how _marvelous!_ " Anne cried, hugging the book to her chest. "I can't _wait_ to start it. A book is such a glorious thing. Matthew didn't need to think of anything else at all! He's terribly generous, isn't he?"

 _Terribly is a good word for it_ , Marilla thought. _Anne would have been happy enough with a book, but now I have to find things to meet all his other clues._

"Now we have to find the thing that was small," she said, trying to hold back a sigh.

"Marilla, this is so _exciting!_ It feels just like Christmas!" Anne said, practically bouncing as Marilla led her around the store.

 _You're going to get more today than you did at Christmas, that's for sure_. Marilla went to the counter to look at the items in trays. She had to find something small, but something that wouldn't break the bank. Jewelry was out of the question.

She spied a change purse, mauve with a metal clasp, small enough to fit in a pocket. She didn't think it was very pretty, and it was rather cheap, but she had an idea. "Matthew thought you ought to have a little purse, now that you'll have babysitting money."

"Ooh," Anne breathed. "I never _thought_ of that. To carry _my very own purse_ with _my very own money i_ n it! Isn't that just the most thrilling thing you can imagine? A _purse!_ Of _my own!"_

"I never thought of having a purse as thrilling," Marilla commented. "Having a purse is just a necessity."

"But Marilla don't you remember, when you were a girl, and you didn't _have_ a purse yet? It feels _so_ grown up!"

As Marilla's hip ached, she did not find herself so delighted with being grown up.

"Well, what was the next thing again? Part of it was blue?"

"Yellow," Anne corrected. "Part yellow, and round, with ruffles, and it would look nice in my room, and it would be good to take to school."

Marilla did not want to buy a million things- and could not afford to- but how was she supposed to find one thing that would meet that description? She tried to spot something that would at least kill two birds with one stone.

 _I know what's part yellow,_ _ **and**_ _round, and won't break the bank!_ She thought. She took Anne over to the counter the candy was kept at. "We thought of that day your sucker dropped on the floor. Now you'll have a new one. We'll ask for that to be brought out when we're finished."

"Mmm," Anne said, already excited. The one she'd had before, she'd only just started it before it had been broken to pieces. She had tasted just enough to know it would be delicious, but not enough to actually get to enjoy it.

Marilla thought _, so we found small and green, and part yellow and round. Now about the thing with ruffles that's good to take to school…_

Suddenly Marilla had an idea. One that suited her, too, because it was useful, at least somewhat. "It's a new pinafore. I decided that if you go back to school soon you ought to have a pretty new one with ruffles like the other girls."

Marilla saw no point in ruffles on clothes, but what was she to do, since it _had_ to have ruffles in order to meet Matthew's ridiculous clues?

"I am _over the moon_ ," Anne breathed. "You don't know how it's been to go to school with all the other girls in their blues and yellows and pinks and lavenders! And my dresses being brown and gray! It was _excruciating!_ But I don't even care now, because from now on every morning after I put on my plain brown and gray dresses, I'll pick up a beautiful ruffly white pinafore and tie it around me and look just as darling as all the other girls! _Ruffles,_ Marilla!"

Marilla didn't say anything but she didn't need to, because Anne was prepared to talk enough for the both of them.

She went on, "I know I should appreciate the clothes you've given me, and I _do_ , but I suppose I don't mind saying now that the pinafore you gave me looks just like a plain old apron one would put on to do their cooking and cleaning!"

Marilla ushered her over to the counter to pay for the book, the sucker, and the change purse. "I have a bolt of fabric at home, we'll start on your pinafore tonight."

"Ooh!" Anne squealed. "Oh, Marilla, can it have a pocket in the front so I can put my change purse in it?"

"Yes," Marilla answered, no where near as enthused as Anne.

"Can it have _two_ rows of ruffles at the shoulders? I know my dresses don't have puffed sleeves- so it _might_ look ridiculous to have ruffles draping over puffed sleeves that aren't _there_ \- but if there _were_ ruffles up at the shoulders of my pinafore, then I'd be able to _imagine_ that my dresses had puffed sleeves-"

"Yes, yes," Marilla said.

"Can it have eyelet on the ruffles?" Anne begged. "I just love eyelet! And can we make the sash extra wide so that it can tie in a big bow?"

Marilla said, "I don't have any eyelet and I don't plan to make any. And the bow doesn't need to be big- it'll be behind you, so you won't see it anyway."

"But other people will!" Anne argued.

Marilla gave her a look that told her she'd had enough. "Now something that will look good in your room," she thought aloud. She thought again of her bolts of fabric at home. "A valance. I'm making a valance for your window."

 _And heaven knows that's enough. Treating her as if it's Christmas! I don't believe in spoiling children. Though I suppose Anne could do with a bit of spoiling...but how I hate the idea of giving her ruffles at her shoulders- the child's already vain as a peacock. It's a waste of fabric, that's what it is._

* * *

Mrs. Andrews was the one who answered the door for Matthew, and although she invited him in, he found he had no need to speak to them; he was there only to pick up the paper from the bank and he did not intend to stay.

Mrs. Andrews returned a moment later with a document and handed it to him.

"Thank you," Matthew said, not unkindly.

Mrs. Andrews looked like she wanted to say something. Finally, in a quiet voice, she began, "I hope Anne is doing well…" she stopped, took a breath, and said, "Let us know-"

But Matthew never knew what she wanted to know, because Mr. Andrews came up behind her then and asked in a cold voice, "What are you doing here?"

"The paper from the bank, Harmon," she breathed.

"Well, you have it now," Mr. Andrews said.

"I do," Matthew agreed. "Good day."

* * *

Matthew went to the bank.

"An account was set up here a day ago," he explained. "I have papers showing it's to be signed over to my daughter's name."

The bank teller said, "Oh, yes- I just handled this yesterday for Mr. Harmon Andrews. You all ought to have come in together, you wouldn't have needed paperwork if you had."

Matthew didn't say anything.

After having Matthew sign for it and stamping the document, the bank teller asked, "Do you want a statement?"

"Yes, please," Matthew responded.

He left with a sealed envelope and went to find his family.

* * *

Anne chattered incessantly all the way home, and Matthew's heart was lifted up to hear her excited about her new things. Of course Anne thought Matthew had personally chosen things he wanted her to have.

"And the pinafore- Matthew, it's going to breathtaking. I can almost forget my dresses are brown and gray with no puffed sleeves, a long as I have a ruffled pinafore to tie over them. All the _other_ girls have ruffles, you see, and now I will too- especially over the _shoulders_. Oh, it will be such fun to look over my shoulder and have my vision _obstructed_ by ruffles!"

Matthew started laughing, and Marilla couldn't help joining in.

But then Anne sighed. "Of course, if I don't go back to school then no one will ever see them," she said sadly. "I wish I could go back! Yet at the same time I'd be afraid to…"

"Well, Anne," Marilla said, looking at Matthew. "We heard that Billy won't be in school on Monday, so we thought you might like to try going for a day and just see how it is."

She did not want to promise that Anne could go back permanently, since she wasn't entirely sure that the Andrews intended to make good on their promise.

Anne bit her lip. "What if…what if he shows up after all?"

Matthew spoke up. "We'll drive you to school and we'll wait a little while before we leave. If he comes, we'll take you home."

Anne nodded slowly.

But then she thought, "What if everyone talks about me? Everyone in school knows what I said about Billy. And I don't know what they think of me…"

"Ruby's on your side, isn't she?" Marilla asked.

"Yes…" Anne nodded slowly. "But _Josie_ isn't. She thinks Billy only did that with me because I _tempted_ him! But _she's_ the one who spread the rumor that it was really me and Gilbert and we were trying to scam Billy!" Anne looked torn. "I _want_ to go back to school. But…"

"Ruby's your friend. And Gilbert, and Diana. And Jane seems to be for you, even though it's her own brother who's done this. Having four people around you is a good little barrier, isn't it, for anyone against you?"

Anne considered that. "I suppose…" She shook her head and lifted herself up. "Well, I _want_ to go back. I can't let anyone stop me!"

Matthew and Marilla felt relieved.

* * *

When they reached Green Gables, Anne found a note from Gilbert under the front door.

 _Anne,_

 _I miss you._

 _-Gil_

It wasn't much, but she tucked it into her new change purse, it was worth more than all her babysitting money.

* * *

Since Anne went upstairs to start on her new book immediately, Marilla had a chance to speak to Matthew without Anne listening in.

"Did anyone say anything to her?" Matthew asked worriedly.

"No," Marilla shook her head. "She was afraid, but once I got her to focus on her presents, she forgot to keep checking to see if anyone was watching her. As we left I saw a couple in the street notice and start whispering to each other, but I steered Anne around and got her looking at something else, and I don't think she saw them."

"That's good," Matthew said.

"Did you make it to the bank all right?" Marilla asked.

Matthew nodded, taking the envelope out of his pocket. "I never looked at it. I suppose we ought to."

He started to unseal it.

Marilla said, "I still don't think we should ask Anne about it quite yet. We'll tell her about it later on and see what she wants to do with it."

Matthew nodded, unfolding the slip of paper he'd drawn from the envelope.

Marilla continued, "But I did realize last night as I was going to sleep that we never spoke of any amount. They just offered, and we eventually accepted, but there were never any specifics discussed. And it didn't feel _right_ to discuss amounts, either! The whole thing feels wrong; you can't _compensate_ for harming someone like that. ...It isn't as if we can put monetary value on the pain he's caused her!"

"Well, _they've_ put monetary value on the pain he caused..." Matthew said. He was staring down at the slip of paper in his hands.

"Matthew, what is it?" Marilla asked.

Matthew didn't say anything. He handed the slip to Marilla without a word.

She looked at him, then took it from him, scanning it herself.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "…I had no idea."

They stood there a moment in silence. Matthew didn't know what to say, and Marilla couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to.

Finally Marilla put the slip of paper back into the envelope and tucked it away in her rolltop desk, shutting the lid firmly.

"I don't want Anne to see this. I don't know when we'll tell her, but it's a tad…overwhelming. So let's just…leave it alone for a while."

They both stared at the desk.

Matthew shook his head in disbelief, and Marilla said, "…I don't know whether I ought to feel insulted or relieved."

She looked over at Matthew. "One thing's for sure, you can put to rest your fears about her future."


	194. Back to School

Anne was turning around, trying to see herself in the reflection of the kitchen window.

"Keep still, Anne, or this hem will be as crooked as a wooden nickel!"

"What does _that_ mean?" Anne asked curiously, but then- " _Ow!"_ she exclaimed as a pin pricked her.

"I didn't mean to poke you- it's that you keep moving. Now be still so you don't get poked again!"

"I just want to see how it _looks_ , Marilla!"

It was Thursday afternoon, and Marilla was working on Anne's new pinafore. Anne stood on a chair in the kitchen while Marilla began the hemline.

Anne hadn't let Marilla get a moment's peace once she found out they wanted her to try school on Monday. That pinafore had to be finished, and quickly.

"We haven't put the second layer of ruffles on yet," Anne worried. "It's _got_ to have more ruffles over the shoulders!"

"It'll _have_ them," Marilla said, holding a pin in her mouth. "Be patient."

Anne was jittery. "Oh, _please_ let me go look, Marilla. I have to _see_."

Marilla sat back. Knowing she was not going to get a straight hemline if Anne didn't stop moving, she relented: "All right, look quickly, and come back."

Anne was coming back from the big mirror when there was a knock on the door.

She hesitantly went to the door and peeked out. "Gilbert!" she cried, happily. She couldn't get the lock opened fast enough.

"Gilbert," she cried again, throwing herself into his arms. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Ow," Gilbert said, backing up from her, his hand on his chest.

"Oh, no…" Anne cried. "I'm sorry!"

"I didn't realize pinafores were quite so painful," Gilbert said with a bit of laugh.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I'm full of pins! Marilla's sewing a…" She moved back, "Come in. Marilla's sewing this for me to wear to school on Monday."

"School?!" Gilbert's face brightened up like the morning sunrise. "You're coming back?!" He turned, making sure to lock the front door behind him.

She nodded excitedly. "I hope…I mean, I'm…I'm _nervous_. But…oh, it'll be great for things to start getting back to normal!"

"How are things going to work out with Bi-" He stopped, not wanting to upset her.

"Matthew and Marilla told me that Billy wasn't coming to school on Monday- I don't know why- and that they thought I should go in and see how things are."

Marilla came in then. "We've heard that Billy might be out of school for a little while, actually," she said to Gilbert, eyebrows raised. He seemed to take meaning from this, but Anne seemed oblivious and kept talking.

"Even if it's just one _day_ , it'll be nice to feel like things could be how they used to be! I just want so badly to see Diana, and…and Ruby's nice to me now, and I think Jane wants me to come back, too…and I have something new and pretty to wear to school, and oh, let me show you my new things!" Anne started to drag him away but then stopped. "I guess you'll have to stay here while I get them from my room."

"Wait, wait," Marilla called her back. "Let me get that pinafore off of you first."

Anne impatiently waited while Marilla untied it. "You've got a pin in your hair," Marilla said, pulling it out. "However did you get one stuck in your braid? I'm glad it didn't prick you."

Marilla was glad for Gilbert to be here for Anne to talk to; she was quite ready to have a small break from the steady stream of consciousness that flowed nonstop from Anne's mouth.

As Marilla watched Anne rush up the stairs, she thought to herself, _Children don't go to school to learn, they go so that their parents can get a bit of a respite from them._

To Gilbert, she said: "The Andrews have promised to keep Billy home so we can send Anne to school. But I don't want to let her know that, because if they don't keep their word, we can't send Anne back after all. …I don't want to get her hopes up."

* * *

Gilbert stayed later that day. After not seeing Anne for three days, being with her for just a little while wasn't enough.

"It won't trouble your father, will it, to be gone a little longer?" Anne asked worriedly.

Gilbert smiled. "When I left for school this morning, he told me to try to make it home before dark. He saw me come home disappointed for the past three days…I guess he figured I'd have three Anne-less days to make up for." After a moment, he asked, "So should I come on Monday morning to walk with you?"

Anne shook her head. "Matthew and Marilla are going to drive me. They want to stay a little while to be sure Billy doesn't come. …I'm glad."

Gilbert was secretly disappointed not to walk her to school.

"I'm going to be happy to see Ruby- it'll be the first time _she's_ actually been happy to see _me_! I know you said she wanted to come over, but I was never home when she could come."

"Do you want to see her tomorrow? I could bring her with me after school."

Anne bit her lip. "I'll wait and see her at school on Monday." Seeing his face, she explained, "I haven't seen you in _three days_. …I'd rather you come on your own tomorrow."

Gilbert felt warm.

Then Anne burst out, throwing her arms up, "And _Diana!_ Oh, you don't know how _devastating_ it's been to be _without_ her! I know she won't be allowed to be my friend outside of school, but at least we'll have _school!_ Even if it's just for a _day_. I miss her most _excruciatingly_."

Then a new thought occurred to her. "Gilbert, _you and I_ can be friends at school now! We don't have to hide it anymore!"

"True," he said, grinning, "Of course, we can't be _too_ close, being engaged and all…but I expect Ruby will offer herself up as our chaperone."

* * *

On Friday after school, Gilbert was at Green Gables in a flash, feeling bittersweet about one last afternoon with Anne.

He knew Anne should be able to come back to school permanently- as long as the Andrews kept their word- but Anne didn't know that, and so she couldn't possibly know that their time of sharing notes was at an end.

And without needing his notes- without needing his connection to school- he didn't think Miss Cuthbert would allow him to spend time with her alone at home anymore. He doubted Miss Cuthbert would think it was proper for him to come calling in a social way, not at their age.

So Friday needed to be special.

When Anne opened the door, she was greeted with Gilbert standing on the front porch, holding up a new slate.

"Gilbert…" She stared at the slate in his hands. "You bought me a slate?"

He nodded.

Anne said, "Thank you, but…"

Gilbert looked crestfallen. "What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just…I bought a new slate."

"You did?"

"Yeah…when I went to town with Matthew and Marilla, before we left the store…I thought about it and asked to go back in…I bought a new slate myself, with my babysitting money…"

Gilbert lowered his hands. "Oh," he said. He tucked the slate back in with his own things, shrugging it off like it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry," Anne said, looking at his face, seeing he was disappointed. "It was the first time I could buy something for myself, with my own money, but if I'd _known_ you-"

"No, I'm- I'm just glad you have a new one, that's all. It'll be nice to have it new to start school with."

Anne nodded. "Yeah…I didn't know if I'd ever go back, but I was hoping…it was awfully nice of you to think of it, Gilbert."

"Oh, sure," he said. "I just wanted to help out, that's all."

They stared at each other a moment.

"Did you throw out the old one?" Gilbert asked.

The corners of Anne's mouth turned up. "No," she said. "I decided to hang on to it. I saved it as a momento."

"A momento? Of what?"

"Of when you decided you liked me no matter what I did," Anne laughed. "If someone can still like you even after you've hit them in the face with a slate, that's really saying something, isn't it?"

Gilbert laughed.

"Come in," Anne said, holding the door back for him.

He stepped through the door- stopping to lock it behind him- and Anne, surprising him, slipped her hand into his as they walked to the kitchen.

He hoped it wouldn't be the last time.

* * *

Monday morning, Anne was nervous. Marilla had the new pinafore ready, so Anne didn't even mind that the dress she wore was gray with no puffed sleeves. She slipped her new fluffy white pinafore on, tying it in a bow behind her. But then she couldn't see if the bow was perfectly tied or not, and went running down the stairs- " _Marilla!_ I need _help!_ "

Marilla came quickly, with a frantic expression. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She stopped looking alarmed when Anne's frantic answer was, "I can't tell if my bow is perfect!"

Marilla put her hand over her heart. "That's what I get for indulging your vanity," she said, untying Anne's pinafore and re-tying it into a big perky bow.

"There," she said. "You're perfectly perfect. Are you ready to go?"

Anne took a deep breath. "I think so. Oh, Marilla, I'm so nervous!"

"Don't be nervous," Marilla said calmly. "Things will go smoothly, if you're calm and don't talk a mile a minute like you usually do- give the other girls a chance to talk, too."

"I will," Anne said, feeling jittery. "But I don't know if anyone will want to talk to me."

Marilla said seriously, "You have Gilbert, Diana, Ruby, and probably Jane. If any of the other children are unfriendly to you, ignore them and stay with the ones you _know_ are your friends. All right?"

Anne nodded, biting her lip.

Marilla looked at her. "And don't feel you must discuss what happened. You don't owe anyone any explanations."

Anne suddenly threw herself into Marilla's arms. Marilla was surprised, but slowly put her arms around Anne, too.

When Anne pulled away, she said, "Oh, Marilla, I'm going to _miss_ you! I've been with you all day… _every_ day."

Marilla felt bad now for thinking only a few days before that school gave parents a nice break away from their children. She patted Anne's hair now and said, "It'll be different, that's for sure. Go and get in the buggy now. I'll get your lunch basket."

Matthew was already in the buggy, ready to go. Anne climbed into the buggy with her bookstrap over her shoulder but her new slate gripped tightly in her hand.

Marilla came out with her lunch, and they set out to go.

Once at school, Anne watched others running in and out of the school building.

"Well," Marilla said, "Hop out, Anne. We'll wait here for a little while to be sure Billy doesn't come to school."

She bit her lip.

Watching her, Matthew leaned in and asked, "Do you want to wait till the bell rings?"

Anne nodded, grateful. _Matthew_ understood. He knew it would be easier to go in as the bell rang, so that there wasn't time for any socializing before school started.

Once the bell rang, though, there could be no more delay, and she slowly got down out of the buggy. She began to walk away, but after a moment she turned back and climbed up into the buggy again to hug them both.

"It'll be mighty quiet at home now," Matthew said to Anne. "But you'll come back to us with lots of stories, won't you?" He smiled at her.

Anne smiled, hugging him again, and then walked away from them.

"She looks small, walking off by herself," Matthew commented.

Marilla said, "I can't believe I was wishing for her to go back. Now I'm going to go home and wish she was there." She shook her head at herself.

They didn't say anything else, they just sat and waited until the door was shut and school seemed to be in session. Anne didn't come back out, and finally they drove away.


	195. Ruby and Jane

_The prospect of walking in and facing everyone again is a bit daunting,_ Anne thought _. Still, it's good to be getting back to normal._

The bell was ringing, and the other students were making their way to their seats, the steady hum of conversation dying down as school was about to begin. Anne put her things in the cloakroom, keeping her head down to avoid eyes. As she sat down, she was aware of other students looking at her, but when Diana put an arm around her, squeezing her close, nothing else mattered.

Anne wished she'd come in before the bell rang, so she could have spoken to Diana, but her fear of the other student's reactions had kept her out until she heard the bell. She felt someone behind her poke her in the shoulder. She turned, worried, until she was met with Ruby's cheerful grin. Anne smiled back, relieved, until Josie elbowed Ruby in the side with a glare.

Anne turned to face the day ahead. Mr. Phillips acknowledged her with a nod, but said nothing to her. In a few minutes the class was busy reading silently, and Anne lost herself in a story.

* * *

Reading was soon over and Mr. Phillips began a dry, dusty lesson in history. The only good part was that his back was frequently turned as he wrote on the board, allowing Diana and Anne to pass much of the morning writing notes to each other. Every time he turned to write, his chalk scraping uncomfortably against the board, a note was pushed under the table. They were very nearly caught, but continued anyway. They could not hold back after so long a time being apart from each other.

* * *

Ruby learned from Gilbert and Jane that Anne was going to be in school on Monday, and she came prepared. At lunch time she brought out a pink satin purse with a pearl closure.

"Ruby, your purse is _exquisite!_ " Anne exclaimed. "Oh, I love _pearls_ …they're simply _divine_. I suppose angels don't cry, I don't know why they would, but the first time I saw a pearl it made me think, 'If an angel cried, it's teardrop would look just like _that'_. Do you think that's a strange thought? I told Marilla that once, and she said it sounded heathen-ish. But I didn't mean it to. I often say things but I don't…"

Ruby listened as Anne went on. She was smiling. She'd thought Anne was a bit odd before, but now she couldn't imagine why she'd ever found her to be anything but delightful.

Finally Anne finished her train of thought and said, "Anyway, Ruby, your purse is _wonderful_."

Ruby flushed with pride. "Thank you. I got it for my birthday."

Anne said, "I have a purse now, too! …Except mine is just a little change purse. I have it in my pocket." She pulled hers out to show Ruby.

Anne had been pleased with her purse, but it was of no comparison to Ruby's. But before she started feeling down about it, she reminded herself that her purse was special not because of what it looked like, but because of what it held- Gilbert's note about missing her was still inside.

"Yours is nice, too," Ruby said kindly. "Now," she went on, getting down to business, opening her purse and beginning to pull things out of it: "I brought my purse because I needed it to carry all the things we'll have to try on your hair. All right? I have lots of ribbons- I thought pink, to match the flowers we'll carry- but then I thought you poor dear, you can't _possibly_ wear pink ribbons in your hair. But that's all right because I have _lots_ of colors. I was thinking maybe yellow? Yellow is awfully pretty on redheads, I think! Oh, and I have a little circlet with silk rosebuds on it. I thought we'd put that on your head and then tie your hair with the ribbon at the end. It's white and green, the circlet. It belonged to my mother when she was a girl- she said we could use it, just for that one day."

"What day?" Anne asked innocently.

"The day of the _wedding_ ," Ruby said, as if Anne was being silly. "Let's finish our lunches quick so we can start figuring out how we'll style your hair."

"Oh," Anne said, putting her sandwich down. How was she supposed to tell Ruby there'd be no wedding? Maybe she shouldn't yet; maybe Gilbert was right- until they could be sure there was no baby coming, it was easier to let Ruby believe a marriage was going to happen. …If she realized that Anne and Gilbert didn't _have_ to get married, she might decide that Gilbert ought to be hers again, and then Anne would have lost a friend for sure.

And worse, if she knew Anne had absolutely no intention of getting married- to _anyone_ \- Ruby might let that slip to her mother. _I have Mrs. Gillis on my side now_! Anne thought, feeling positive. _She might even like me! …But_ _ **only**_ _if she thinks I'm trying to do things the_ _ **right**_ _way now…_

"It would have been prettier to have a veil, instead of just fixing your hair with ribbons, but my mother says you can't wear a veil, of course."

 _I hate Mrs. Gillis,_ Anne thought.

That souring her mood, Anne finished her sandwich without saying anything.

She then sat patiently while Ruby held up various ribbons to her head and discussed what colors looked best on a redhead.

After a few minutes of hearing which colors clashed with her hair…and which colors made her freckles stand out…and which colors made her eyes look tired…and which colors made her cheeks look sallow… Anne, now in a mood and trying to keep it from coming out, glanced over to where Gilbert was talking to a friend.

Gilbert happened to glance over to her at the same moment, catching her eye. Anne must have been glaring, because he suddenly looked as if he was trying to keep himself from laughing. She only glared harder.

He said he'd talk to his pal later and came over to where Anne sat with Ruby.

"Wow, Ruby- that green is really something," he said, kneeling down to where they sat.

Ruby looked thoughtfully at the mint colored ribbon in her hands. "You think so? I'm not sure…" She held it up to Anne's head again.

"Oh, yeah," Gilbert said. "Without a doubt. It's…" he looked at Anne, trying to think of an Anne word. "It's ravishing."

Anne tried not to laugh.

"Seriously, Ruby, there's no need to go on, just stop right there- _that's_ the one," Gilbert told her.

"Oh, well! If the _groom_ says you look ravishing, then this is _definitely_ the one!" Ruby announced, pleased. She put all her ribbons back into her purse and handed Anne the green one. "You can keep this. Don't lose it, I don't have another one that color."

"Thanks, Gilbert," Ruby said cheerfully.

"Yeah, thanks, Gilbert," Anne repeated, for an entirely different reason.

Anne was happy Ruby wasn't angry with her anymore. She wanted Ruby to think she appreciated everything she was trying to do for her. She wanted Ruby to like her and be her friend. And she was happy Ruby cared enough about her to want to make things special for her.

…But she didn't want to think about getting married. She loved Gilbert, but the marriage would only be due to a baby, and Anne could not bear to think of having a baby.

But Ruby wasn't done with wedding plans. "I'm going to ask my mother to buy some white rice for us to throw at you."

"What? Why?" Anne interrupted.

"It's tradition!" Ruby said, surprised.

"It's tradition to throw rice at me?" Anne asked.

Ruby laughed. "At weddings! People throw rice."

"Hot or cold?" Anne asked.

"It isn't _cooked_ , Anne," Ruby explained. "People get handfuls of it and they throw it as the bride and groom leave the church to get into their carriage and drive away." Then she looked sad. "I don't know if we _should_ for you; you and Gilbert aren't going on a wedding trip, are you?"

Anne stared at her. "Ruby, we're not-" She stopped and took a breath. "No, we're not going anywhere."

"It's smart _not_ to go on a trip, even though it's awfully disappointing," Ruby agreed. "Any money would have to be saved for the baby."

Seeing Anne's disheartened expression, Ruby said comfortingly, "But you could go on a trip some other time."

"Yes, I suppose we could," Anne said with a sigh.

Ruby asked, "Where are you going to live? With Gilbert's father? I hope he's all right. My mother said maybe it's all working out for the best, really, because when his father is gone then poor Gilbert won't be all alone in a cold, empty house. He'll have a wife and baby to keep him company in his time of grief."

The more Ruby said, the more sick to her stomach Anne felt.

"Ruby, can we talk about something else? I don't want to think about Gilbert's father being sick."

Ruby's expression changed. "Oh, of _course_ not. I'm _so_ sorry, Anne. It must be dreadful to _almost_ have a father-in-law but lose him so quickly. And now he'll never know his grandchild!"

"His…"

"Of course, it isn't _his_ grandchild, not _really_ , but I suppose Gilbert intends to treat it as his own, doesn't he? After all you can't exactly tell the baby that Billy-"

"What about Billy?" Jane interrupted, sitting down to join them.

"I was saying they're smart to tell the baby he's Gilbert's own, instead of Billy's," Ruby explained.

Jane looked at Anne. "Anne, are you sure now? Last I heard, it wasn't definite."

"It _still_ isn't," Anne said miserably.

"Ruby," Jane said in a sensible voice, turning to her, "If it isn't even definite yet, then why make so many plans?"

"You have to have the wedding before it starts _showing_ ," Ruby whispered. "That's what my mother said. That way it doesn't look _quite_ so bad."

"But she's probably not going to know there's a baby _until_ it starts showing," Jane pointed out.

"That's why we have to have everything _ready!_ " Ruby explained as if they should have known this: "As soon as it starts to show just a little bit, we'll have the wedding quick, before she gets any _bigger!"_

Jane thought Anne looked as if she might cry. She thought of an idea: "Anne, you like surprises, don't you? Ruby, you should just plan yourself- Leave Anne out of it completely."

"Yes," Anne said quickly. "That's a _wonderful_ idea. I want it all to be a surprise. Don't tell me _anything_ about it!"

"Well, all right," Ruby said, pleased that Anne trusted her to make all the decisions herself.

Then she got up off the floor, saying, "I'm going to go talk to Tillie. Josie's got a hold on her and I'm trying to bring her to _our_ side!"

As soon as she left, Anne breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anne, why don't you just tell her to stop this?" Jane wondered. "It's clear to see it's bothering you."

Anne explained, "Ruby didn't really want to be friends with me. Now she thinks we're friends, and she's being so _nice_ …I don't want to say anything to make her stop liking me..." Anne sighed. "It's not just that, either. Ruby's mother thinks I'm doing the right thing now."

Jane looked sympathetic.

There was a moment neither said anything. Jane felt awkward. She wanted to beg Anne's forgiveness for even being related to the person who had done this, but she didn't know how to begin and she still harbored fears that Anne could never truly forgive her. She was too close to it, it was her own brother. How could Anne ever be her friend?

After a long silence, Anne said wistfully, "It's nice to come to school and see everybody, even if it's just for a day…I wish I could keep coming to school."

"Of course you can keep coming to school. Billy's not coming back," Jane said, surprised Anne didn't know this.

"He isn't?"

"No!"

"How do you know?"

"It was part of the settlement," Jane said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean, settlement?" Anne was confused.

"I don't know what the word means exactly, but that's the word my parents used for it. They called it the settlement. Having to pull Billy out of school, and the money. …Those are the things they've agreed to, so they wouldn't have to go to trial."

Jane looked at Anne's face and uncomfortably realized she was saying something that Anne had never been told anything about.

"Oh," she said. "Um. I didn't know _you_ didn't know."

Anne felt like she might be getting angry but she wasn't sure yet. "They never _told_ me they made it so Billy couldn't come back! Why didn't they just _say_ that?"

Then suddenly she was livid: "I didn't _want_ to go to trial! And Matthew and Marilla promised me I didn't _have_ to! But all this time they were planning to go to trial anyway?! And about money, I don't understand-"

Jane tried to be reassuring. "But you _don't_ have to go to trial, so that's good, isn't it?"

Anne said, "…I suppose. But they still lied to me!" Then she said, "Is he _really_ not coming back, Jane?"

Jane nodded. "No, he can't."

"Does everyone _know_ he's not coming back?" Anne wondered. "Does _Josie_ know?"

"Josie doesn't- Mother and Father only told _us_ yesterday."

"What about Mr. Phillips?" Anne wondered, glancing at their teacher as he graded papers.

He hadn't seemed surprised to see her come into school that morning, but then, he didn't seem to particularly care for Anne, so maybe he'd just been glad his note had worked. Anne remembered the time Mr. Phillips had written a note to the Cuthbert's telling them to keep her home from school when she was sick: that just happened to be Anne's last day there.

"Mother and Father told Mr. Phillips that they were taking Billy out of school for a little while, but they didn't tell him it was forever. …I think they just didn't want to have to explain why."

"What…what's going to happen to him?" Anne couldn't help wondering.

"My mother and father are finding a tutor for him. He'll have to do school that way."

"He's going to be all by himself…" Anne said. "Without his friends."

Jane thought Anne was nice to care about Billy missing his friends, but Jane was misinterpreting Anne's thoughts completely.

Anne continued, "If he's all alone, he can't goof off and avoid doing his work. You can't worm your way out of your work when you're the only student there! And he won't have his friends, so he'll be bored and lonely. …He'll _hate_ it."

Jane said positively, "It'll be good for him to do school with a tutor. He'll have to actually focus on his work and be responsible for a change. Maybe he'll grow up a little."

Anne thought Jane was missing the entire point: "But he'll hate it, and he'll be angry at _me_ for it."

"Oh," Jane finally realized. "Well, even if he _is_ angry, he's not going to be able to do anything about it."

Anne should have been relieved, but wasn't. What if Billy considered his removal from school to be just one more reason to want to hurt her? If he was determined to catch her alone, he'd find a way.

She said, "Just because he isn't at school…I could see him in _town_ , and I'll see him at _church_ , and…" Anne rubbed her arms, feeling a shiver go through her.

Jane pointed out sensibly, "But if you see him at church or in town, you'll both be surrounded by other people. Nothing bad can happen."

Anne realized, then, that Jane did not truly comprehend the fear that an assault like this could instill: There wasn't _just_ a fear of Billy _doing_ something to her: It was the thought of living each day not knowing where or when she'd see him next. And she couldn't imagine going back to church, knowing he was sitting only rows away. No matter how many other people surrounded them- protecting her- his eyes could be on her all they wanted to.

She used to wish she could erase her memory of that incident, but now, she'd rather erase _his_ memory of it. Because even if he never hurt her again, there was nothing to stop him from violating her inside his mind, over and over, every time he _looked_ at her.

 _It's nice you're on my side, Jane, instead of his. But he's your brother; you don't think about him the way I do._

 _You can't possibly understand me…_

… _I don't know if there's anyone who_ _ **can**_ _._


	196. Distance

With Ruby off to work on Tillie's allegiances, and Jane feeling too awkward to keep up conversation, Anne was left with only Diana for company. She didn't mind that the other two had gone, because it was Diana who mattered most.

Gilbert did not sit with Anne or have any further conversation with her, knowing she had precious little time with Diana, so he left them alone.

Diana was very curious to know about all the time Anne had spent with Gilbert. She prodded her with questions until Anne finally said, "Diana, we're not _courting_."

"Oh, I know," Diana said. Then she lowered her voice and said: "But it seems you _might_ , someday."

Anne blushed. "I _do_ like him a lot," she admitted, stealing a glance at Gilbert. "But that doesn't mean anything is going to happen."

"Why not?" Diana asked. "Ruby seems to have gone off him. The other day Moody told her her hair looked pretty. She gave him this long look, like she was thinking, and then during lunch time she told all us girls that Moody had the most 'puppy dog' eyes she'd ever seen."

"Is that a _good_ thing?" Anne asked, unsure.

"I suppose it is, because she blushed scarlet when she said it."

They both laughed.

"Yes," Diana said, "So it's possible she's brewing another romance in her mind now. But about you and _Gilbert_ …"

" _Diana_ ," Anne said, "Nothing can happen, so-"

"Why not?" Diana asked. "He loves you."

Anne looked startled by Diana saying that, especially so casually. Then she said, "Because liking Gilbert-"

"Or loving him," Diana put in.

Anne sighed. "That all leads to _other_ things. Calling, courtship, getting married…it's just…"

" _What?"_ Diana prompted.

"Impossible," Anne whispered.

"I don't see why," Diana began, but Anne interrupted-

"Because I can't be with any boy now."

Diana stared at her for a moment. Of course she knew what had happened to Anne, but she had not connected it to anything about Anne's future courtship prospects.

"I just can't," she repeated, shaking her head slowly. "And it's not fair to him."

Diana disagreed. "Anne, he already _knows_ what happened and he's not going to hold it against you. He doesn't think it was your fault!"

"It's not that," Anne said. She took a breath. "I know, now, what married couples do together. None of that nonsense about mice. I know the truth. And I _can't._ "

"Oh," Diana said. "I guess I didn't think about that part of things." She bit her lip, then said brightly, "But maybe Gilbert won't care! He loves you, he would never force you into anything you didn't want!"

"I _know_ ," Anne said miserably. "But that's not fair to him. Men _like_ doing that sort of thing, Diana. And I don't think most men really care whether their wife wants to or not, but Gilbert would care- I know he would, he'd never push me! So it just doesn't seem fair to him. He's sweet to not push, but…that means I'd be making him go through life never getting to…to do _that."_

Diana was quiet a moment. She didn't know what to say.

Anne was thinking.

 _I never should have told Gilbert I loved him! Now he thinks there's a chance of us ending up together someday. And it's not going to happen. I…I shouldn't have let him get so close._

Mr. Phillips called them to attention before Diana could think of anything to say.

Lunchtime had passed much too quickly, but in the afternoon the passing of notes resumed. Diana told her about how frustrated she was with Minnie May, but not how frustrated she was with their mother. Anne _knew_ Mrs. Barry was preventing Diana from being her friend, but Diana said nothing at all about her mother's words, not wanting to upset her friend.

When school was over, Anne again hoped no one would say anything to her. The day had gone well, and she hated to think anything right at the end would spoil it. But with Diana, Gilbert, Jane, Ruby- and now Tillie too- surrounding her, Anne wouldn't have heard any opposition anyway.

Matthew and Marilla were going to come pick her up from school, and after she hugged Diana goodbye, she faced Gilbert.

"School was nice, having you here," Gilbert said warmly. Anne hadn't even spoken to Gilbert much today, but she could tell he'd had the best day at school he'd had in a long time. "You think you'll come back tomorrow?"

Anne nodded, but she was thinking. What could she _do?_ She needed Gilbert to move on, to stop thinking he loved her.

 _I_ _ **can't**_ _tell him I don't love him. …I don't think I could even speak the words. They're not true…and they're awful. I_ _ **do**_ _love him! …But that's why I've got to make him think I don't._

Finally she decided to stop being so warm with him, stop being so close, stop letting him think she wanted him to love her.

 _If he thinks I'm disinterested, then_ _ **he'll**_ _stop loving_ _ **me**_ _, and I won't have to tell him I don't love him. He can be my friend, but…he needs to know there's nothing more to it. Just friendship. And then he'll find some other girl to love._

"The Cuthberts' are coming, I see," Gilbert said, looking off at the buggy in the distance. "I'll wait with you till they get here."

"You don't need to," Anne said firmly. "I can see the buggy from here. I'll be fine. You should go."

Gilbert's brow creased. He _would_ have thought Anne just didn't want him to bother waiting on her, but her tone was so _cold_. Did she not want him there?

"Uh…it's no trouble?" he offered, feeling confused.

She said- just as coldly- "I don't need to be babysat, Gilbert."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't mean you did! I was just-" He took a deep breath. "Anne, is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No, everything's fine."

He looked even more confused. "Did I say something…?"

She shook her head. "No, Gilbert. Everything's fine. Really." She smiled at him, but it wasn't her real smile.

"…okay," he finally said. "Well, I guess…if you really don't want me to wait with you…"

"I can see the buggy coming. It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded, finally. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

He started to walk away, but then came back.

"What?" she asked in a tone that was polite, but not friendly.

"Nothing, I just…wanted to tell you again that I love you."

She didn't respond, and finally he said- "Ok. Well…see you."

As Gilbert walked away, he felt bewildered- what had he done? He tried to think back through the day's events, but nothing stood out as being potentially problematic. So what could it be?

 _I said I love you and she didn't say it back._

He almost stopped in his tracks when he realized what he thought it might be:

 _I've pushed her. I've made her uncomfortable._

He thought back to all the times he'd held her hand. All the times he'd hugged her. All the times he'd held her, cradled in his arms. The times he'd touched her- her face, her hair, her shoulders, her back.

 _I stopped_ _ **asking**_ _,_ he realized.

 _I never used to presume I could touch her; I asked her if I could hug her, I asked her before anything, really._

 _But lately, every time I've touched her, I just_ _ **did**_ _it. I just reached out and_ _ **took**_ _her._

… _I've frightened her._

When he came to this conclusion, he felt terrible.

 _Of course she's pushing me away,_ he thought sadly. _Especially now that I told her I love her! The other day she was talking about why we can't court… She thinks I want to push her for more, and that's terrifying to her._

 _I need to back off. Right now. She has to know she's safe with me. I'll never touch her again._


	197. Admittance

The buggy drive home was not at all what Matthew and Marilla thought it would be. They'd expected Anne to pepper them with details of the day's events, but instead they were greeted with one question:

"Why didn't you tell me Billy wasn't coming back?"

They were startled. Finally Marilla explained, "We were worried the Andrews' wouldn't keep their word about not sending him back. We didn't want to get your hopes up, only to have to pull you again."

"Oh. All right," Anne said, placated.

"How did you find out about that, Anne?" Matthew asked.

"Jane told me," Anne explained. "At lunch time. I said it was nice to be back, and that I wished I could stay, and she said ' _of course you can stay, he's not coming back'_."

"Well, that's a relief to me!" Marilla said. "If _Jane_ said that, then most likely her parents mean to keep him out."

"That's not _all_ she said," Anne announced, turning to Marilla. "She said there was a _settlement_. Something they did so you wouldn't take them to court!"

"We never used the word settlement," Marilla defended.

"But you promised _me_ I didn't _have_ to go to court," Anne said, feeling betrayed.

Matthew spoke in his quiet, gentle voice. "We never had any intention of putting you through a trial. None at all. We just had to have some clout, to get you back into school."

"What do you mean?" Anne asked, already feeling better with Matthew's calming presence.

Marilla explained, "You shouldn't have been kept from school, Anne. It wasn't right. We had to get them to make Billy leave."

"So you threatened them?" Anne asked.

"We… _influenced_ them," Marilla said carefully. "We just mentioned that a trial might be a good way to handle this…unless they felt like making arrangements that would benefit you."

"Is that why there's _money_ , too?" Anne asked, feeling hot.

Neither of them answered her for a moment.

"What _about_ money?" Anne asked, sounding a tad hysterical. "Why are they _paying_ you to hurt me?"

Once the words were out, Anne's eyes were wet, and she realized how upset this made her. She felt confused: She had been hurt, and Matthew and Marilla were making money off of her.

"Anne," Marilla said calmly. "It isn't like that. Calm down and let us explain."

Anne sniffed.

Marilla and Matthew glanced at each other. "Now, first of all, it isn't _payment_. That's terrible, and we'd never do that to you. Ever."

"Okay," Anne said. "So why did they give you money?"

Marilla clarified, "They didn't give _us_ money. They gave _you_ money."

She paused, then continued, "We just didn't tell you about it, because we didn't want to upset you, and clearly, we were right not to tell you."

"Were you _ever_ going to tell me?" Anne asked, now unsure if she should feel angry or not.

"Yes, of _course_. We intended to ask you if you wanted to keep what they gave you, or if you'd rather not. But we thought we'd wait a little while-"

"Wait a while for _what?"_ Anne asked.

"Well," Marilla said carefully, "Until we knew for sure whether you'd have…expenses."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Once she realized, Anne felt that feeling of dread she'd become so familiar with. "I am _not_ having a baby," she said resolutely. She crossed her arms. "I _refuse_."

Marilla put her arm around Anne. "Don't worry about any of that now. The money's just there in the background, if it's ever needed. You don't have to use it."

"If there's no baby, will they take it back?" She begged.

"Yes, I'm sure they will, if you really don't want it," Marilla said calmly.

Anne uncrossed her arms and straightened up. "Well, anyway, I'm glad Billy's not coming back. And I'm glad you pretended you wanted to go to trial, if that's what made them listen."


	198. Mother Nature Returns

Anne was still sleeping in Marilla's bed.

Marilla had shown her what she'd done with her bedsheets, to make it easier for Anne to sleep and less likely to get twisted up in her covers.

But Anne had only tried sleeping in her own bed once before she begged Marilla to let her back into _her_ bed.

"It _did_ help, Marilla," she told her. "It really did. I didn't get all tangled up. But I _still_ want to stay with you. Please let me!"

And so Marilla had given in.

Anne felt better about Marilla's room now. Her bed was still a safe place, and the rest of the room was getting better:

Marilla had explained her plan about changing the room layout to make it look different. The two of them had gone up to the spare room where Anne had chosen a colorful braided rug that was Marilla's least favorite, and put it down on the floor of the room. Then Anne had a glorious time moving all of Marilla's things around until she declared the room "a new creation".

Marilla preferred it the old way, but said nothing, deciding her room wasn't as important as Anne's comfort.

But that night, as they lay in bed, Anne felt exhausted. After not being in school, it was a whirlwind of emotion and energy, and she felt ready to rest- happy with the promise of being able to do it all again tomorrow. If only that little pinprick of pressure in her lower back would go away.

Sometime during the night, Anne awoke to a feeling of having wet the bed. She slowly opened her eyes and sat up. Lifting the covers back, she saw that the unwelcome guest she'd first met a couple of months ago had returned in all its' glory.

"Oh, _no!"_ she said loudly, then clamped her hand over her mouth, hoping she hadn't woken Marilla. But then she realized she'd likely _have_ to wake Marilla, because she would have to get the sheets in to soak.

Marilla stirred in the bed and sleepily asked, "Are you all right, Anne?"

"No!" Anne said furiously. "No, I'm _not_ all right!"

Marilla quickly sat up.

"I'm sorry Marilla, but you'll have to get out of bed. Me bloodying things up seems to be becoming tradition!"

"What are you talking about, Anne? Why are you angry?"

"Because! I can finally go back to school and then I have to go with _this!"_ Anne said, climbing out of the bed. "All this time I didn't have it and _now_ I get it! What if it goes through my dress while I'm at school? I'll be humiliated, Marilla! Just when I could finally go back!"

Anne stomped out of the room, taking the lamp with her as she went up to her room to find her sanitary napkins. She did not notice Marilla's tears.

When Anne finally returned, she immediately went to pull off the sheets. It was then that she saw Marilla's face.

"Just leave them, Anne. I put a towel over the spot on the mattress- just get back in and go to sleep. Morning will come soon, and you need your rest."

Anne felt awful. "I'm sorry, Marilla- _please_ don't cry! I didn't _mean_ to get your sheets bloody again! I'll fix it, I promise!"

Marilla shook her head, holding her arm out for Anne to come close.

Anne climbed into the bed with her and Marilla held her a moment, her hands shaking.

"It's just that I'm so relieved. So, so relieved."

Anne didn't understand what was happening. Why was Marilla murmuring that in such a weary voice?

"What is it, Marilla?"

Marilla pulled away from her. "I'm just so relieved because, Anne, you're not having a baby."

Anne was confused. "How do you know?"

"Your…womanly flowering time. It came. It finally came." She still sounded so relieved she was shaking.

"Yes, I know!" Anne said miserably. "But what has that got to do with anything?"

"You don't have those when you're expecting," Marilla explained, wiping her eyes.

"I didn't know that," Anne said, her face shocked.

"Oh, I've been so worried," Marilla breathed out.

" _I_ haven't been," Anne said. "I've been _glad!_ I've got awfulness all around me- not getting _thos_ e horrible visits from Mother Nature has been a _rare blessing_ in a time of _tragical events!_ ...I know you said those come to prepare you for having babies someday, but I didn't know that _not_ getting them meant anything. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Anne, how _could_ I?" Marilla said, her voice still shaking. "I asked you if you'd been having them, and you told me you only had that first time, and the next month just a little spotting! How could I tell you that might mean you were expecting? The doctor told me that sometimes _stress_ can cause you to _miss_ them, or that being young can make things _irregular_ …I didn't want to worry you over it until we could be more sure of what it meant."

"But now we can be _sure?"_ Anne asked. "Really and _truly?"_

" _Yes,_ " Marilla told her.

"You know, when you first told me about this horrible Mother Nature person, you could have explained a little bit more about intimate relations, _then_ ," Anne pointed out.

"I didn't know I needed to!" Marilla looked flabbergasted. "I didn't know what had _happened_ to you, Anne- I didn't know you had the _experience_ you had!"

Marilla tried to explain, "…When a young girl is first visited by Mother Nature, it's such a long span of _years_ before the first time she'd have intimate relations, and-"

"Well, not for _me_!" Anne said, near tears. "For me, it all came at once!"

At this heartbreaking statement, Marilla's eyes softened. "Oh- Anne, I- I'm sorry." She reached out and stroked her tear-streaked cheek.

"So- so I _can't_ be having a baby?"

" _No,_ dear," Marilla said tenderly.

Something inside her came apart, then, and, shaking, she fell into Marilla's arms: every emotion that had taken captive her heart over all these weeks finally lifted away from her.

Marilla just held her tightly, and both came apart together.

When Anne finally regained her composure, she sat up and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"You know, it would be nice if there was some sort of class or something where we _learned_ these things, because I feel _very_ left-in-the-dark!" she announced hotly. "Maybe at school, they ought to-"

"Anne, it isn't a proper subject to be discussed without hushed voices," Marilla interrupted, finding the idea of learning about these things in a classroom to be quite shocking and inappropriate. "However did you think of such an idea? Students sitting in a classroom learning about their…" Marilla stopped, and finished: "Such a thing could never be done."

"Why not?" Anne said. "We learn about everything else in school! Marilla, we learned how _plants_ reproduce! But when it comes to _ourselves_ , we shouldn't know?"

"I think this whole thing is quite unsuitable." She looked ready to move on. "Nevertheless, now you know."

"Yes, and I spent _weeks_ sick over it. Marilla, if there's anything else that's going to happen to me as part of this wonderful journey toward womanhood, please warn me well in advance!"


	199. As Things Begin to Settle

Tuesday morning, Anne did not want to go to school.

She was thrilled to know the world would not be coming to an end for her in six months time. But, the other side of that news was that she now had to go to school with Mother Nature alongside her.

"Can't I just stay home? Maybe Emily needs me today!" Anne begged.

"You don't go to her on Tuesdays. You'll see her tomorrow." Marilla was firm.

"But I can't go until after school hours now," Anne thought of. "She won't get as much housework done without me there all afternoon. Let me go to her today. _Please_ , Marilla!"

Marilla marched her out of the kitchen and prodded her to go back into her room. "You've missed enough school as it is. No more."

"But-"

"Anne, _do_ be sensible. You can't miss a nearly a week of school every month."

Anne's arms were crossed. She knew perfectly well she was pouting and she knew she shouldn't be pouting at her age, but she couldn't _help_ it. Marilla was setting her up for a tragical happening, should her dress be soaked through!

"Now look here," Marilla said patiently, opening one of her dresser drawers. "I rolled up extra sanitary napkins and hid them inside this washcloth. No one will know they're in there, because it will look just like the cloth you bring to keep your chalk in."

"Fine," Anne said stoutly. She took the washcloth and stuffed it into the rest of her things.

"Let's go, then" Marilla said, turning her around and giving her a firm push. "No more delay. Matthew's waiting with the buggy."

Anne unhappily went out to the buggy and climbed in. Marilla climbed in after her.

After a few minutes of driving, Marilla remarked, "If you feel all right about walking to school, you may. I know Diana isn't allowed to walk with you just now, but if you and Gilbert want to walk together, that's all right with us."

Anne felt optimistic for a brief moment before she remembered that she couldn't let Gilbert think she loved him. "Oh," she said. "I'd rather just walk by myself."

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other.

"You don't mean, that, do you, Anne?" Marilla asked.

"Well," Anne began miserably, "I don't want to walk with Gilbert anymore."

"Has something happened?" Marilla asked, concerned. "Did you two quarrel?"

Anne shook her head. "We've spent so much time together; I think we're getting tired of each other!" She tried to laugh it off, but it wasn't convincing.

Matthew said, "If he said or did something to hurt you, you'd tell us, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, I would! He hasn't. It's only that I want a break from him. We're _friends_ , of course, but there _can_ be too much of a good thing, you know," she said. "Besides, now I'll have my other friends again, and I needn't rely on him so much." She sat up straighter, firming her resolve. "Frankly, Gilbert Blythe can be a bit of a _bore_."

Marilla laughed. "My, I thought you liked him."

Anne gave her the side-eye. "Marilla, you didn't think I liked him in any sort of romantical way, did you?"

Marilla tried to look disapproving. "I should hope not! You're still just thirteen."

Anne nodded. "That's what I thought."

When they reached the school, Anne climbed down with far less hesitation than she had the previous day. But Matthew still said, "We'll wait a few minutes, Anne, to be sure he doesn't come." Then he added, "If you go inside and he's in there, you come right back out and we'll take you home."

But Billy was nowhere to be seen, and Jane and Prissy were talking by themselves at Prissy's desk. _That's good,_ Anne thought, feeling better about the day. _No Billy, and no baby. Just as it should be. Things are going to turn out all right, after all._

Anne breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Gilbert wasn't there yet. She sat down with Diana and talked as fast as she possibly could, to get all her thoughts in before the bell rang.

Gilbert slipped in only seconds later, but Anne tried not to notice him. When he finally managed to catch her eye, Anne gave him only a polite nod.

Gilbert's heart sank. What could he do? The only thing to do, he thought sadly, was to give her space. He opened his notebook and reviewed his notes from the previous day, feeling very lonely.

As Mr. Phillips called the class to attention, Anne reluctantly stopped talking to Diana and got out her work.

She was dying to tell Diana that she no longer had to worry about having a baby, but she didn't want to tell her where anyone else would hear.

…Of course her baby problems were no secret, but Anne would rather any _further_ news on the subject be handled at _her_ discretion, rather than being spread around through rumors.

But she listened to the morning's lesson on grammar with her hands on her stomach, feeling very happy to know that a bowl of oatmeal was all that was in it.

At lunch time, she was about to tell the girls her non-baby news , when suddenly she thought of Ruby. _Oh, no,_ she thought- _what if Ruby wants Gilbert back now? The only reason she stopped being angry at me for 'stealing' him was because she thought he was doing such a noble thing, saving me from becoming an unwed mother! If there's no_ _ **need**_ _for him to be with me, she'll want him back! …And I don't care if she wants him romantically, because_ _ **I**_ _certainly won't be with him romantically…but he likes_ _ **me**_ _. She's going to be angry with me if she realizes Gilbert really loves me!_

She stuffed her sandwich in her mouth to keep herself from telling her non-baby news.

 _Wait- Diana said Ruby might like Moody, now. That's it- I'll wait until I know for sure that she's dead gone on Moody, and then I'll break the news. She won't care about Gilbert one way or another if she's decided she wants Moody to swoon over._

The girls noticed Anne seemed to be in a much lighter mood than she had been yesterday, and they had a good lunch together. Anne looked around for Josie and found she was eating with an older girl. She felt strange, knowing that the other girls in Diana's clique were rallying around her, and moving away from Josie.

When school was over, Matthew and Marilla were already there waiting. Anne hugged Diana goodbye, and Ruby and Tillie, too- but Jane hung back and acted shy.

Gilbert started to walk with Anne to the Cuthbert's buggy, but then hesitated. "Anne…if you want me to come over, still…"

Anne shook her head. "I'll be busy with my schoolwork," she told him.

Gilbert just nodded, but all he could think of was, _can't we work on it together?_

He sadly watched the Cuthbert's buggy drive away.

The girls came up behind him.

"It's almost going to be too bad if there's no baby," Diana said slyly, "Because then you won't have any excuse to marry her."

Gilbert turned around in surprise. "Diana!"

"Well, Gilbert, you…" she broke off laughing, with Ruby laughing too.

" _What?"_ Gilbert asked, almost laughing himself.

"You have…very _expressive_ eyes," Ruby said with a giggle.

Gilbert blushed and turned away from watching the buggy in the distance.

"All right, all right," he said, moving on from that subject. "I was going to ask you, Jane- are we still going forward with the plan? I wasn't sure."

Jane looked doubtful. "I suppose it isn't really necessary now. He's not coming back."

Gilbert and Diana looked at each other. They weren't sure what to do.

Finally Diana said, "I guess if he's gone for good, then it won't make any difference. That was the main thing."

Gilbert agreed. "But…hang onto it, Jane- just in case."

* * *

While Anne was in school, the Cuthbert's made their way over to the Andrews'.

"We'll have to tell them there's no baby," Marilla pointed out. "And that Anne doesn't want the money."

"I'm glad we took it when we did, though," Matthew commented. "If we'd waited to take it until after we asked Anne, the Andrews' might have changed their mind by then and not given it to her."

When they reached the house and knocked on the door, they saw Billy glance out the window of the front door, but back away quickly from it.

Matthew and Marilla felt rage bubble up inside them, just seeing his face. They tried to calm down before Mrs. Andrews opened the door.

Mrs. Andrews had clearly just made Billy go into the kitchen to be out of sight. She smoothed her hair and took a deep breath before she said, "Good morning."

"We came to inform you-"

"Please, come in," she said, opening the door and ushering them in. She glanced quickly around, hoping there was no one about to see them arriving at her house.

Matthew and Marilla stepped reluctantly into the parlor.

There was a moment of awkward silence until Marilla asked, "Have you made arrangements for your son's schooling?"

Marilla really just wanted to know if Billy would be sent away to a boarding school, or if he was staying here in Avonlea.

"We have someone coming next week, we're considering engaging- excellent references, a stellar academic history…" she trailed off, emotional. "If they work out, then it'll all be settled."

Marilla nodded. "That's good."

There was another silence.

"Is Anne…" Mrs. Andrews trailed off, shaking her head.

"What?" Marilla asked a bit more sharply than she meant to.

"Perhaps I haven't any right to ask, but I wondered how she was doing. If…if she was able to go back to school, and how her health has been…"

Marilla softened a bit. She had a very low opinion of Mrs. Andrews, simply because she was the one who had raised Billy. But she could also tell that- unlike Mr. Andrews- Mrs. Andrews seemed to be feeling a tad more contrition.

"She returned, yes, and as far as we can tell she's doing well."

There was another silence.

Marilla wanted to rub in the seriousness of what Billy had done, and said then: "She has frequent nightmares. It's been difficult to get her to sleep."

Mrs. Andrews couldn't even look up at them.

"We needed to tell you-" Marilla began, just as Mrs. Andrews started, "I know that our son went-"

"What?" they both asked, stopping.

"You first," Marilla said.

"Our son. He went to Green Gables the day you were here. And…and he bothered…Anne."

Marilla was surprised. She did not expect Mrs. Andrews to acknowledge this.

She did not respond, waiting for Mrs. Andrews to try to justify her son's actions.

"Uh…I wanted to say that I'm sorry he did that."

There was another silence, until Marilla said simply, "Thank you." She was surprised that Mrs. Andrews was not denying he'd done it.

"And I am glad Gilbert was with her."

Marilla's eyebrows went up. "You knew he was there?"

Mrs. Andrews looked ashamed. "Yes, my…my husband and I, uh…we thought Anne having Gilbert over was a point in our favor, but…" She shook her head. "I suppose it was good he was there…" She had tears in her eyes. "Anyway," she said, clearing her throat, "What is it you wanted to speak with me about?"

Marilla took a breath, saying more lightly, "It seems there won't be a baby coming, after all, so-"

"There isn't? Did Anne-"

"So we came to tell you that the money can be returned. Anne won't be needing it now, and we certainly don't want-"

Mrs. Andrews shook her head emphatically. "No, no," she cut in. "I can't accept it back. You must keep it. For Anne."

"But there isn't a baby, so-"

Mrs. Andrews said flatly: "It was never about a baby."

"What?" Marilla asked, startled. "Of course it was about a baby."

Mrs. Andrews took a shuddery breath. "No, it wasn't. Not to me. My husband wanted to give a sum to help with any baby expenses, but…I told him we owed her quite a bit more-"

Marilla was intrigued. "I have to admit we were rather surprised by the amount. I am curious as to how you decided on such an amount…?"

"Lost wages," she said simply.

She stared at them a moment before continuing.

"It was something _Jane_ said. She said that…that Anne wanted to be a teacher. And I knew that she was unlikely to be granted a certificate, or…or obtain a situation…with people in town knowing what they know. …I'm aware of the blame she's receiving."

"You yourself blamed her," Marilla pointed out.

"Yes, well…the fact is, she has a reputation now. I don't know whether she'll be _allowed_ to teach."

There was a long silence. Finally Mrs. Andrews said, "I found out what lady teachers ordinarily make in a year. And I thought about how there'd be several years she would have been teaching…"

"And you were replacing it." Marilla finished.

She didn't know what to say.

Finally she said, "Still, it's an enormous sum, and I don't mean to be rude in inquiring about your financial situation, but I would hate for your children- for Prissy or Jane- to suffer from that money lost," Marilla began slowly. She could not say that she would worry about Billy.

Mrs. Andrews shook her head, "I had a rather sizable inheritance from my parent's estate. This doesn't make a dent. The children won't miss it."

"Mrs. Andrews," Marilla said- uncomfortable now because she _wanted_ to be angry with her but it was much harder to be angry with someone who was beginning to give _in_ to you- "I appreciate how you're seeing our side of things. I know it can't be easy."

Mrs. Andrews only nodded.

After a few minutes she said, "If my husband knows you don't want it, he'll think we should take it back, but I have no intention of touching that money."


	200. Grey Horizons

Marilla thought they should not tell Anne that the money wouldn't be returned.

"She's happy with Billy gone and being at school- why tell her something that'll get her upset again? From now on, things might be smooth sailing!"

Matthew nodded. "I agree. She doesn't need to know about it. Maybe not till she's grown, even."

Marilla looked at him. "You think _that_ long?"

Matthew said slowly, "Well, she oughtn't to make decisions about money, she's just a child. When she grows up she can make better decisions for herself."

* * *

Wednesday morning they drove her to school again, and this time she bounced out of the buggy before it even stopped, ready for a new day of school ahead of her, with friends to surround her.

Matthew and Marilla both felt a bittersweet twinge at seeing her go. They were happy for her, but they both missed her terribly already- the school days seemed long after having her around the house, filling it up with her happy chatter.

They drove home in silence, each in their own thoughts.

* * *

"Anne," Ruby said, pulling her. "Sit with me."

Diana frowned. "Ruby, she's sitting with _me_."

"But Josie won't sit with me anymore," Ruby said. "And I don't want her too, anyway- I'd have so much more fun with Anne. Will you write me notes like you wrote Diana?"

Diana spoke up, "She only wrote me notes because we hadn't seen each other in _ages!_ We can't _keep_ writing during class like that! We'll get in trouble. We very nearly did before!"

"But Anne, you will, won't you? You say such funny things in your notes, and school is so dreadfully boring without you," Ruby begged.

Anne laughed, happy to be fought over.

"I have to sit with Diana, Ruby, but I'll write notes to you, as long as you promise not to let Mr. Phillips catch us!"

* * *

 _Anne, Moody keeps looking at me! I think he likes me!_

Anne almost giggled, but stopped herself.

 _Drop something and see if he picks it up._

A few seconds later, Ruby's slate pencil rolled across the aisle.

 _Eeeek! Did you see the way he JUMPED for it?!_

Anne's hand flew to her mouth so she wouldn't react.

 _Yes, and Ruby, he was blushing from the tips of his ears!_

She practically heard Ruby squeal behind her. Anne glanced back and caught Ruby's sparkling eyes. _Shhh!_ She mimed. Then she wrote:

 _Do you really like him, Ruby? He looks like he worships the ground you walk on!_

Ruby poked her in the back and Anne reached behind her.

 _Well, he isn't Gilbert Blythe, but there's something different about him._

Anne waited for Mr. Phillips to turn his back again.

 _I agree, Ruby. Wholeheartedly! There's something really sweet about him- earnest and good natured. He blends into the crowd, but perhaps that means he tries harder._

Ruby wrote,

 _I don't know why I never noticed him before! Gilbert is so handsome and dashing that he blotted out every other boy, but Moody has every bit of sweetness Gil has!_

Anne was relieved to read that, and responded with:

 _I think Moody'll be real handsome when he grows up, too. He's just that sort of boy. Some of the most dashing gentlemen started out awkward and goofy._

Ruby gave her an angry poke in the shoulder, and her note had been scribbled in haste:

 _Anne! How dare you call MY Moody awkward and goofy! He may not look like Gilbert, but he has the most precious eyes, doesn't he? And his smile positively lights him up! I can just imagine how he looks in a wedding tuxedo. Maybe he can be my escort at your wedding. I'll be your bridesmaid, Anne, and then someday when me and Moody get married, then you and Gilbert can come to OUR wedding._

Anne wanted to laugh over Ruby already moving on and hitching her wagon to Moody's star, but she had to quickly straighten up and push the note underneath her reader, since Mr. Phillips was looking at her suspiciously.

* * *

At lunchtime Josie looked at the group of them, then turned on her heel and flipped her hair, marching over to sit with some older girls. They welcomed her with sort of a disinterested greeting, and then turned to each other again. Josie's face looked tight and haughty, but Anne could tell it bothered her to be on the outside of things- she was used to being the center of a group.

After she finished eating her lunch, Josie came to her seat again- her normal spot, next to Ruby. She didn't say anything.

Anne tried to smile at her, feeling sort of bad for her. She was angry at what Josie had done to her, but after feeling on the outside edges of things for so long herself, she felt ready to forgive and forget, and be kinder to her. "I'm glad you're here, Josie. Maybe tomorrow you'll eat lunch with us?"

But Josie only looked away, staring outside through the window. Then after a moment, she said quietly: "I'm surprised they let you back in."

Anne stared at her. "Why wouldn't they?"

Ruby looked back and forth between them.

Josie watched Anne disdainfully. "Girls like you belong in a convent or something, where they can try to pray you out of your wicked ways."

Anne's eyes grew large and wounded, and she couldn't speak.

Gilbert had overheard that, being nearby, and he stepped closer. He wanted to comfort Anne, but could not touch her, and instead he said to Josie- quiet and serious- "You did a terrible thing to her, but here she is, trying to be nice to you. Maybe you should be praying over your own wicked ways."

Anne looked up at Gilbert, grateful for his defense of her, but wanting desperately to just love him every bit as much as she wanted to. She reminded herself that he needed to move on from her so that he'd be ready to find love with some other girl someday.

He looked down at her, and their eyes connected to each other's the way they so often did, seeming to lock into place. He looked like he was about to reach out and touch her hair, but he pulled away from her and went back to his seat.

The afternoon passed with both of them wanting only to be next to each other.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, right before school let out, Ruby was doodling Moody's name and her own name together with little hearts around it, when Moody tripped over a desk leg and went splat next to her. In her quickness to help him up, she dropped her notebook, and it fell open exactly to where her scribbled love note was. Moody stared at it, and Ruby blushed scarlet.

But when Mr. Phillips dismissed them, Moody asked nervously if he could walk Ruby home.

* * *

Gilbert got his things and prepared to go, thinking about how winter was coming to an end but even spring would not lift his spirits. Everything seemed dull and grey now.

He was startled to hear Anne saying "Gilbert-" and he turned around quickly, seeing her behind him.

She just looked at him with her enormous eyes, seeming as if she wanted to _say_ something, but couldn't.

"I forgot to tell you before," Gilbert spoke up in the silence. "What Miss Cuthbert sewed for you. You look pretty."

But Anne looked away then, as if something had _hurt_ her.

He felt awful. _I shouldn't have mentioned her looking pretty! What if she thinks I'm…I don't know- looking at her in a lustful way? She'll_ _ **never**_ _trust me!_

He shook his head. "Uh- _anyway_ -"

Anne spoke up at the very same time: "Anyway-"

They both stopped, waiting for the other, but neither continued.

Finally Anne said, "Anyway, I wanted to thank you. For what you said. When Josie…uh…I'm glad you were there."

"No problem," Gilbert said, trying to act offhand about it. He put his jacket on.

Anne didn't leave. She stayed, watching him, biting her lip. She was struggling. How could she keep him from ever leaving her side, but also push him to move on and not love her? She couldn't have it both ways.

Gilbert was struggling too. How could he make himself available to her, but without seeming pushy? He asked, "So…if you want to study together for the test next week, let me know, ok?"

She just nodded, but she still looked worried.

He wrongly assumed it was because of his advances, and was quick to say- "I don't think I should come unless Miss Cuthbert will stay _with_ us, though. It doesn't…it isn't…" Finally he stopped trying and said, "I don't have any interest in us being alone or anything. Just so you know."

 _Good_ , Anne thought- _Maybe you don't like me that way after all._

"Yeah, then," she said, shrugging. "If you want to come over today-"

"Yeah," he answered quickly, then chided himself. _Could I have sounded any more eager?_

"Wait. No, today's- today's no good. I go to Emily's Wednesdays, remember."

"Oh. Right." Gilbert looked like a deflated balloon. He wondered if Anne was really still going to Emily Perkin's house, or if she'd stopped her babysitting job once she returned to school. Maybe she didn't even do that anymore, maybe she just said it because she needed an excuse to avoid him.

Anne wanted so badly to spend the afternoon with him- and to spend _every_ afternoon with him- but she tried to sound like she didn't really care if he was there or not. _Don't give him any reason to think you're that excited to have him around. Otherwise he'll never move on to another girl!_ So she said casually, "If you want to, you could come by tomorrow, maybe."

Gilbert shook his head. She didn't sound as if she wanted him around, so he thought he better not. _I don't want her feeling obligated to me._ "Uh, no- tomorrow's no good. I have plans."

"Oh," she said, holding her face very still.

"Yeah, so, I don't know- maybe we could do something sometime next week. Or not. We can just see what happens."

"Sure," she whispered. "Maybe."

She watched him walk away.

A moment later Diana was there, saying, "Oh, Anne, what is it? You look as if you're going to cry!"

Anne shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm fine!" But she held her eyes open wide, because if she blinked them, the tears would come out.

She quickly got her things and left. Diana followed her out, bewildered.

"Anne, why are you so upset? Did something happen?"

Anne pulled her off to the side. "Listen, Diana, about a baby-"

"Oh, Anne, _no_. You poor thing!"

"Diana, I'm _not_ having a baby," Anne said quietly.

Diana smiled. "Well that's a relief, isn't it!"

Anne nodded, shrugging.

She should be happy, but pushing Gilbert away- and then seeing him clearly losing interest in her- made everything even darker than it had been when she thought she _was_ having a baby.

Diana reached out and hugged her passionately. "Anne, this is _such_ good news! My mother is upset about you having-" she lowered her voice to be sure she wasn't heard by others rushing by on their way home- " _relations_. But that can't be helped now. At least you won't be an unwed mother, and that's something to be thankful for! I'm sure she'll let us be friends soon, she _has_ to, she just _has_ to!"

Anne smiled, but it was an empty smile. First she'd had Gilbert and no Diana. Now she might have Diana, but no Gilbert. And she needed them both.

She saw the Cuthbert's pulling up in the buggy, and turned to go. "Listen, Diana," she said as she left her- "Don't tell Ruby, all right? Or anyone. I want to wait to tell until I'm sure Ruby really, really likes Moody. It'll be easier for me that way."

Diana nodded, crossing her heart.

Anne thought, _It may not really matter if Ruby's found a new future-beau, if Gilbert doesn't love me anymore._


	201. A Big Sister

After school, Matthew and Marilla dropped Anne off at the Perkins' with a promise to be back before dinner.

"Do you mind if just Matthew comes to get you?" Marilla asked, figuring it was worth a try. "That way I can have a good hot meal ready for you when you come home?"

"Well- all right," Anne said hesitantly.

 _Good,_ Marilla thought- _She's getting over this 'both of you have to come with me' business._

But Anne wasn't _quite_ over it. She asked worriedly, "You'll keep the door locked while you're alone, won't you?"

Marilla looked at Emily over Anne's head.

"Yes, of course I will." Marilla said, patting Anne's shoulder.

When they had gone, Emily turned to Anne. "Let's see. I have a _lot_ to do, but I'll start with the ironing."

"All right, I'll take Clara away and read to her," Anne said.

"I thought you could bring her in there with me and keep me company while I iron," Emily said cheerfully.

"But you worried she would get too close to the fire. Or that one of the irons would fall on her."

"I needn't worry about any of that if you're holding her," Emily said. "Besides, I thought we could have a chat."

"Are you sure?" Anne asked. "You said you refused to let Clara in the same _room_ as the hot irons!"

Emily told her: "You know, I've found myself fretting less over her. At the beginning, I could scarcely sleep a wink because I felt I had to watch her every _moment_ \- I'd stare at her sleeping and worry that if I stopped, she might stop breathing! But now I've become a bit more relaxed. Of course I must keep her safe, but over time I've gained enough sense to see that there's a world of difference between taking precautions for safety, and, flat out living in fear!"

Anne was thinking.

Emily looked at her. "Come into the kitchen with me."

As Anne settled in with Clara, sitting with her in the corner on a blanket with her blocks and rattle, Emily put her oven mitts on and carefully slid one of the irons out from over the fire.

"So how are you enjoying school?" Emily asked, setting the heavy iron on her ironing board.

"It's gloriously beautiful because I have my very dearest friend in the whole world there by my side all day long. And a lot of the other girls are glad I'm back, too!" Then she said quickly, "Only I'm sorry not to be of much help anymore…I feel bad that I can only come for a couple hours after school, now."

"Well, Anne, I am very happy you could go back. A young girl ought to be in school."

"Emily," she said hesitantly, lifting Clara up and holding her close. "…Do you know why I wasn't going to school?"

Emily wasn't sure how much she should reveal. She said carefully, "Miss Cuthbert mentioned you'd had some trouble with a boy at school."

Anne nodded slowly.

"Is that getting better?"

Anne bit her lip. "He isn't coming to school anymore. So I guess it's all right now."

Emily was relieved. "I'm glad to hear it. So now school can be what it's supposed to be," she said, turning around the pants she was ironing.

Anne didn't answer her.

"Is something wrong?" Emily asked then, noticing Anne seemed melancholy. Anne was making a little tower out of Clara's blocks, but then she pushed it to knock it over. Clara laughed, so Anne did it again.

"Well…" Anne shifted. "There's this boy. At school."

"Another one?" Emily looked concerned. "Oh, Anne, has he done something to hurt you, too?"

"No!" Anne was quick to say. "No, he's been my...friend. A very _good_ friend. In fact, I like him a _lot_. …I even love him."

Emily smiled. "That's a nice thing, isn't it?"

She nodded, but then changed to shaking her head.

"Does he not feel the same way?" Emily guessed.

"No, he does! He says he loves me, and…he says that he doesn't even care that I-" she broke off suddenly, her face turning red.

"Doesn't care that you…?"

"Well…"

Emily stopped ironing for a moment. "Anne, I hope you feel you can talk to me- girl to girl, you know. I'm not so very old."

Anne looked surprised. "I know! That's one reason I like coming here so much. You seem almost like a friend."

"Almost!" Emily laughed. "Well I may be all of twenty, but I don't feel quite so old yet that I can't be a real friend to you. In fact, I always wanted a little sister, and you fit the bill quite nicely."

This made Anne deliriously happy.

"So about this boy you like. Or love. What seems to be the trouble?"

"I don't want him to love me."

"You don't?" Emily was surprised, but guessed that Anne's experience with the other boy had turned her away from this new one.

Anne looked uncomfortable again. She picked Clara up and hugged her.

"The thing is," she finally said. "The thing is, I can't _let_ him love me because he wants for us to be together for _real_."

"For real?"

"I mean for real- like for _ever_ , like courtship and marriage and all that, and…"

"That's moving things very quickly for being just thirteen," Emily commented.

"He's fifteen," Anne clarified.

"Ah, I see, fifteen, then," Emily said, trying to take her seriously when she found that statement amusing. "Well, Anne, even if you really love him, you don't need to think about courtship or marriage, do you? After all, it won't even be a possibility for many, many years."

"You got married at nineteen," Anne pointed out. "That's only six years away. And only _four_ years for _him_."

"Yes, and I was the first of my group of friends to marry," Emily told her. "My parents thought we should wait another year or two, but finally they gave us their blessing. But just because I married at nineteen doesn't mean you should. You must do things when the time is right for you, not anyone else." Emily pushed her hair back from her forehead. "But even if you _wanted_ to marry at nineteen, that's- as _you_ said- six years away! A lot can happen in six years. People change, situations change, feelings change."

"I don't know if I'll change. I hope he changes- that he'll love someone else. And maybe he's already backing away from me…I think I'm doing a good job with convincing him to." Her voice was sad.

Emily pushed the cooling off iron back onto the range, but before she pulled the next iron out to use, she asked kindly, "If you do feel that you love him, Anne, why do you want him not to love _you_? Can you tell me that?"

Anne looked at Clara. She was wearing a long peach colored dress with a white bonnet. The bonnet had lace around it. Anne thought it was pretty. She reached out to touch it, and Clara wrapped her chubby hand around Anne's finger.

"I thought I might have a baby," she whispered. "And I couldn't see it working out very well for him to court me."

Anne was surprised that Emily did not react strangely to this or ask her why she thought she was having a baby.

"It's better if babies come after marriage, not before, but if you love each other you can make things work out all right no matter what happens in life," was all Emily said about it.

"But then I found out I _wasn't_ going to have a baby-"

 _Oh, thank heaven!_ Emily nearly collapsed from relief.

"-so I thought, all right, maybe things _can_ work out after all, since there won't be any baby to get muddled up in everything."

She sighed. "But then it occurred to me that it doesn't matter if there's no baby standing in the way of things, because _I'm_ standingin the way of things."

"How so?" Emily asked.

"Well…I…"

Anne had to think for a moment about how much she felt she could share with Emily. Emily hadn't acted shocked when Anne told her she worried she might have a baby, so maybe Anne could tell Emily _lots_ of things without worrying she'd be shocked.

Finally she continued, "…I'm standing in the way of things because I'm _afraid_ to get married."

"What kinds of things about marriage seem frightening?" Emily asked quietly.

Anne wasn't sure how to say it. She watched Clara roll over and grab her rattle, shaking it for a moment, before she spoke: "When you had _Clara_ …"

She hesitated so long that Emily made the natural assumption that childbirth was what had frightened her. "Anne, birthing a baby isn't so bad- truly, the minute you hold your baby in your arms for the first time, all the pain is forgotten and you're much too happy to think about it."

Anne shook her head. "It isn't _that_ part of having a baby that scares me…"

"What part of it-"

"The part about how it _gets_ there," Anne interrupted, saying it all in a rush before she could stop it.

"Ah, I see…" Emily said.

"I shouldn't mention such intimate things; Marilla would be ashamed of me," she said, wiping her eyes.

Emily answered kindly, "Miss Cuthbert is a wonderful lady, but she doesn't have the _experience_ to ease your fears about certain things…"

Anne nodded. "Is it… _awful?"_

Emily laughed. "Awful isn't a word I'd use for it."

" _Horrendous_ , then?" Anne tried.

"Oh, Anne, no! I meant it isn't a bad thing!"

Anne looked doubtful.

"Well, I'll tell you the truth, in the beginning I found it to be uncomfortable. But discomfort quickly passed, and it…it actually feels quite _good_ , if I'm being honest." Emily's cheeks were pink with embarrassment; this wasn't a subject normally discussed openly like this.

"It couldn't _possibly!_ " Anne said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't believe it."

Emily did not know what could be said to convince her. All she could think of to say was, "I think when you _are_ finally married to a boy you love- and who loves you- then a lot of those fears will go away."

Anne remained unconvinced.

She was glad she had Emily to talk to, but their conversation had only made her even more aware of the difference between Emily's marriage and her own:

Emily had entered into marriage with no experience, and- as anyone _would_ be- she was a bit nervous to move into the unknown.

But Anne herself would enter into marriage with the knowledge that such an act had enormous potential to be painful, degrading, and terrifying- and the fear of future intimacy being _anything like_ the past, left her unwilling to take that risk.

But since Emily could be of no help to her there, she moved on to her other issue: Needing boy advice. Any young woman could probably help her out with boy advice. Tears sprang to her eyes: "But it doesn't matter anymore, because when I pushed him away I think it _worked_. He doesn't seem to _want_ to spend so much time with me anymore. And that's what I thought I _wanted_ …but now I feel worse than ever! I don't want him to go _away!"_

"Then tell him that. Tell him how you feel, Anne."

She shook her head. "I can't," she said miserably. "Because then he'll want to get married and…and _everything_. And I can't _do_ that."

Emily did not want to tell Anne that Marilla shared her personal story with her. But she said, "I think you should tell him _exactly_ what you're worried about. About your fears. About everything. See what he says. It might be something you can face together. …You're just thirteen, Anne- it's a bit early to assume this is the boy you'll marry! But if _you_ think this boy is really who you love and you _want_ him by your side, then you two have to be able to talk to each other about your feelings, don't you?"


	202. Diana Talks Some Sense Into Gilbert

(As you can see, I struggle with making up titles for the chapters.)

* * *

On Thursday morning, Anne got out of the Cuthbert's buggy and entered the schoolhouse with the intention of asking Gilbert to come over to Green Gables to study with her.

She and Gilbert had talked to each other about difficult things, adult things, things that were embarrassing and painful- and they had spoken of their love for one another.

And in Anne's eyes, her pushing him away was _because_ of her love for him- she didn't _want_ Gilbert to enter into a marriage with no possibility of doing what every married man did, what every man would _expect_ out of marriage.

In pushing him away, in releasing him out into the world to find a woman who could do the things that Anne could not do, she thought she was doing right by him. She had never considered that she was making a decision about his future _for_ him. She thought about what Emily had said all night and woken up with the conclusion that she had to tell him how she felt, and then give him the choice- she couldn't choose _for_ him.

Gilbert wasn't in school yet when she arrived, but she waited for him, growing more and more nervous, while Ruby prattled on about her walk home with Moody yesterday afternoon. When Gilbert finally came in, Anne jumped up and abandoned Ruby mid-sentence.

"Gilbert," she said quickly.

" _Anne."_ He smiled at her- _like a sunrise_ , was the phrase forever in her mind- before he quickly tried to act as if he wasn't too terribly excited to see her.

"I wondered if you…"

"Yeah?" Gilbert asked.

"Um. I was having trouble with some of the math and I wondered if you might come over after school and we could work on it together…" she trailed off. She was not having trouble with the math, but she hoped that if she made it sound like she really _needed_ him, he wouldn't say no.

"Yeah," he said eagerly, but then shrugged and repeated, "Yeah, sure. If you need help."

"Okay…great. Well, I'll see you after school, then."

"Wait, Anne- aren't the Cuthberts' picking you up after school?" Gilbert asked.

"Oh. Right. Well, you could ride with us," Anne said. "Or I can tell them to go on ahead, if you want us to walk together…"

Gilbert would love to walk with her on the way home, but he thought about how they'd pass through the woods, and he feared that if Anne was already uncomfortable with him moving in too quickly on her, then being alone together in the very woods she was attacked in, would not make her feel any safer.

"No, uh…" he thought a moment, then said: "I'll go on home to help my dad first, and then I'll drive over to Green Gables. Is that all right?"

"Sure," Anne said. "I'd like that." She managed a smile, and then turned away quickly to go back to her girlfriends.

* * *

All day long, Anne felt nervous about Gilbert coming over.

 _Stop this,_ she told herself. _It's ridiculous. No, it's preposterous! He's practically been_ _your best friend and you've told him all kinds of things, don't chicken out now._

* * *

Back at home, Anne waited anxiously by the front door, peering out, hoping to see Gilbert drive up to their farm.

"A watched pot never boils," Marilla told her, sitting at her sewing machine working on the promised valance for Anne's bedroom window.

Anne turned away from the window. "Yes, it does," she said, bewildered.

Marilla cracked a smile. "It _means_ that a thing seems to take longer if you're just standing there waiting for it. Why don't you find something to do, Anne? Here, you can help me."

"All right," Anne sighed, walking slowly over to Marilla.

"I don't like sewing very much," Anne commented. "It's too much sitting down and too much the same- needle in, needle out. Over and over. Everything seems to take so long!"

"You're too flighty and impatient, that's why," Marilla shook her head. "But you like the result, don't you?" she said, gesturing to Anne's pinafore.

"Oh, yes!" Anne said. She spun around, feeling the ruffles on her pinafore hitting her.

"Anne!" Marilla said.

"I'm sorry," Anne said, leaning down to retrieve the thread and bobbin she'd knocked off the table.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"He's _here!"_ Anne exclaimed, suddenly feeling very nervous. What if Gilbert's feelings for her were permanently settled now? Maybe he wasn't even on the fence about it anymore, maybe he truly was over her now.

She opened the door, acting calm. "Hi, Gilbert."

"Hi," he said, smiling.

"Come in," she told him, pulling the door back. She locked it once he was inside.

"Hello, Gilbert," Marilla called out.

"Good afternoon, Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert said. He was standing in the doorway, hat in his hands, looking as nervous as if it were the first time he'd come.

"So…do you want to go in the kitchen?" Anne asked, picking up her books from where she'd left them on the sofa.

Gilbert followed her, but once in the kitchen, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to stay in the parlor so Miss Cuthbert is with us-"

Anne frowned. "Do we need her?" she asked. "I don't know if she remembers how to do all this-" She gestured toward her math book.

Gilbert sighed with relief. "No," he said, "The kitchen is fine."

Anne sat down, but Gilbert hesitated. Instead of sitting right by her side, as he normally would, he chose the chair opposite her, with the table between them. Anne inexplicably felt hurt for a second, thinking Gilbert wanted to distance himself from her.

She opened her book. "Chapter eleven," she said. "Maybe you could explain it to me again. I didn't really follow when Mr. Phillips was going over it…"

As Gilbert "helped" her, Anne only half thought about the math. She watched his foot tapping the floor a bit- not in an impatient way, he seemed to be the most patient human being she'd ever met- as he flipped through the pages of the book. She remembered the rough way Billy had handled her math book- she'd been afraid he'd tear the pages- but in Gilbert's gentle hands nothing could be harmed. As she watched him write out a math problem, she thought of the way he used to hold her hand and how it reminded her of the way one would hold a fledging- sheltered and protected, but free at the same time to fly any time it wanted to.

She heard his voice: serious sometimes- his sensible words always able to calm her flighty ones- and sometimes full of fun, delighting her. _Wanna play hooky?_ he'd asked on the morning of their winter picnic. He absolutely knew she could not bear to go to school without him that day, and his question- paired with a mischievous grin- was meant to distract her from the truth that she was afraid to be left alone. On that day, the only solution to him not leaving her, was for _her_ not to leave him.

Time passed quickly this afternoon as Gilbert talked on, and Anne watched him turn page after page without ever really listening to what he was saying. As she sat, she wondered how to navigate this conversation.

 _Gilbert,_ she imagined saying, _I want to be with you, but I also want you to be happy. It would be best for you to be with someone else, someone who can be all right with the things a man wants to do with his wife-_

"In the example, the order's all wrong. Remember PEMDAS? That's parenthesis, exponents…"

 _If we got married, it wouldn't be easy for you, because…_

"Once we re-group, the problem gets easier-"

 _If we got married, it wouldn't be in the way other people are, because I can never-_

"See, you can do it."

The clock struck five, and its sudden clatter startled them both.

"Did you get that, Anne?" Gilbert asked, bringing her out of her inner thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes it all makes sense to me now. Thank you," she smiled at him.

Gilbert noticed Anne was not paying any attention to the math. In fact, she was staring at his face, looking worried. …She seemed lost in the recesses of her own mind, and he was clearly not welcome there. So he said:

"It's five. I better be getting home. I need to get dinner for my dad." He stood up to go.

"Oh. Right." Anne said, nodding and getting up from the table too.

She walked him to the door. They just stood there a moment, looking at each other.

"Well, I better go," he said quickly then, to avoid making her feel as if he expected a hug.

"Yeah…" Anne breathed.

She watched him go, wanting to stop him.

* * *

Gilbert thought about talking to his father about Anne- it had helped before- but his dad looked especially pale and seemed not to feel like talking, and Gilbert didn't want to trouble him.

After supper he helped his dad back into bed, and went to his room to finish his homework.

That accomplished, he decided he may as well go to bed, too. It was still a bit early for him, but he couldn't think of anything to do and he hoped that if he fell asleep quickly it would at least be an escape from his thoughts.

But as he lay in bed, he could only think of Anne.

 _I messed everything up._

 _If I'd never said I loved her, if I'd kept a distance, not touched her- maybe she'd still want me around._

 _Things didn't have to end up this way._

He rolled over and pushed his pillow over his head, frustrated.

Then he moved the pillow from his face and stared at the ceiling.

 _Well, we're only fifteen and thirteen. Maybe by the time we're old enough to court, she'll have had enough time to see I'd never hurt her._

 _That's a long way off, but I'm not going anywhere._

 _I'll just wait._

* * *

Gilbert woke up too early.

He couldn't go back to sleep, so he sat by the window with a cup of coffee, watching the grey horizon until it began to show colors again.

Finally he heard his father stirring and left to help him up. He thought about staying home, but his father woke up with much more energy than he'd gone to bed with, making Gilbert feel reassured. Still, Gilbert decided that he'd drive to school today so that he could come back home at lunch time.

He got to school too early, and no one was there yet. Mr. Phillips was shut up in his little office at the front of the room, so Gilbert was alone.

Diana was the first to arrive.

"Good morning, Gilbert. You're not usually here so early," she commented. "I saw your buggy outside. Do you have to go home at lunch time?"

He nodded. "I just want to check on my dad, and get his lunch ready for him."

"Is he doing poorly again?" She asked sympathetically.

He nodded once, letting go of a breath.

"I'm so sorry, Gilbert. Is there anything I can do?"

He smiled. "No- thanks, Diana. You're kind to offer, though."

She nodded. "Maybe it will cheer him up if you take Anne to visit. Do you think? She told me about her day there, and how much she likes him."

"Uh-" Gilbert broke off. "No, I don't think I ought to ask Anne for anything. If she wants to visit, she can. But I don't want her to feel obligated."

"She loves your father," Diana said, "Why do you think she'd feel obligated?"

Gilbert thought about whether he could tell Diana what he'd done to Anne _. Of course Diana is Anne's best friend, likely she's already been told what I've done._

"I scared her," Gilbert finally offered up. "I don't want to push her for anything- not even to come over to see my father."

"How'd you scare her?" Diana asked, looking puzzled.

"She didn't say anything to you about it?" Gilbert asked, finding that odd.

"No," Diana said. "Are you _sure_ you scared her? I feel like she'd tell me _that_. How do you think you scared her, anyway?"

Gilbert paused, listening to see if anyone else was coming before he spoke. "I got too…comfortable with her."

Diana raised her eyebrows.

"I never ask her before I hug her, and…holding her hand…there's just been a _lot_ of times I've touched her…" seeing Diana's face, he rushed on: "Not like that. Just her hair, and her face, and…I think she's got it in her head that I'm not safe anymore."

Diana nodded slowly. "So she's suspicious of your motives?"

"She hasn't said _anything_ to you about it?" he asked again.

Diana shook her head. "She only told me that she-" she broke off suddenly, shaking her head and saying, "Well, it's her news to share, not mine."

He searched her face, then sighed, feeling even more flummoxed than before.

"Never mind about that, she'll tell you her news when she's ready. But no, she hasn't said anything about being afraid of you. I wonder why you think she is?"

"There's this wall she's put up between us. She's keeping me at a distance. I can't explain it, but I can feel it."

"Oh," Diana said, nodding slowly.

And then she knew _exactly_ what this was about. And it had _nothing_ to do with being afraid of Gilbert. She remembered her conversation with Anne about what couples do in marriage and how Anne had said that such things were completely impossible for her now.

Most of all, she remembered how Anne had sadly told her it would be better for Gilbert to find a different girl to marry, because it wasn't fair for him to be with a girl who could never let him do what normal married couples did together.

But all she said to Gilbert was, "So you decided the wall she put up means she's afraid of you?"

Gilbert's brow creased. "…it's obvious, isn't it?"

He took a breath. "So, I've got to back off- be _nice_ to her, but not try to be close to her. I don't want her to be afraid of me. Diana, you're her friend, maybe you could tell her I don't have any bad intentions toward her? She'd believe you."

"No, I won't tell her that. In fact, I won't tell her a thing for you. This is just silly," Diana told him plainly.

"Thinking of her feelings is silly?" Gilbert frowned.

"Of course not! What's silly is the way you're going about it!" She looked at him pointedly. "Gilbert, you never even asked her how she felt- you just assumed you knew! Now, when are you going to see her again?"

Gilbert thought. They had no plans. "I wonder if she'd let me come over after school. Or maybe she'd come to my house. …No, that's no good- she won't want to drive with me, because we'd be alone, and she'd feel-"

"Gilbert. Ask her what _she_ thinks," Diana interrupted.

"Okay. I will."


	203. Imaginary Pictures

After school, as Anne and Diana gathered their things to go, Gilbert nervously approached Anne.

He stood there a second, until Diana gave him a look that said, _Go on!_

"Anne," he finally asked, "I wondered if you might come over after school. Not for _me_ ," he said quickly, "For my father. He's…not doing very well, and I thought maybe seeing you would help."

Anne looked at Diana, biting her lip.

Diana gave her a push. "She'd love to," she said for her.

Anne glared at Diana.

"You don't have to," Gilbert said. "I just thought-"

"No, I _do_ want to," Anne told him. "I just…Matthew and Marilla are picking me up again, in the buggy."

"Oh, well…"

Diana interrupted: "Good, then you won't have to walk home to ask them. How convenient."

Anne gave her a look.

But turning to Gilbert, she said, "I'll ask them."

And ask she did.

Gilbert saw her walk to their buggy, and speak to them a moment, gesturing toward the schoolhouse where Gilbert waited.

A moment later they were driving away, Anne giving a half-hearted wave.

She came back to Gilbert looking like someone about to sit for a test.

"Gilbert, please tell your father I hope he feels better," Diana was saying as Anne returned.

Anne looked at Diana, unsure about whether she was doing the right thing.

 _Diana_ was sure she was doing the right thing.

"Bye, you all. See you Monday," she called, waving happily as she left them alone together.

Anne turned to Gilbert.

She had that heartsick feeling she'd had for the past two days, and it was only made worse by being so near him.

"Well- are you ready to go?" He asked, just as uncomfortable as she was.

She only nodded.

The buggy ride felt short, mercifully, and soon they stopped in front of the Blythe's home.

Gilbert helped Anne down, wondering if it was all right to touch her, realizing with amusement that it would be awfully hard to help her out of the buggy without taking her hand.

Not that Anne needed help, of course. But it was right to offer, so offer he did.

Anne felt a flare of something akin to pain when she took his hand. It wasn't pain _exactly_ but she could not recognize the spark that seemed to fly from his hand to hers. She pulled away quickly, thinking she shouldn't have touched him- it only made letting go harder.

"I don't know if he's still awake. He was reading the newspaper when I left him, but he doesn't stay up for very long, so…"

Anne waited in the hallway while Gilbert entered his father's room.

A moment later, he reappeared, smiling.

"He's awake, and he's _so_ happy you're here."

Anne felt warm inside as she came into the firelit room. "Hello, Mr. Blythe," she said to the wrapped figure before her.

He looked worse than the last time she'd seen him but there was still that spark of teasing in his eyes, and she was relieved that despite all his illness had taken, his eyes remained the same.

Gilbert pulled a chair over for her and she sat down, never taking her eyes from his father.

"Are you still a voracious reader?" he asked her. "Now that you've finished my stack of magazines- and memorized Walden, surely-" _she smiled at him_ \- "Have you run out of things to read?"

"No," she told him. "I'm still… _voracious._ " Then she shook her head and said with a laugh, "That's a new one for me- what does it _mean?"_

He laughed too. "Avid. Insatiable."

"Then, yes- I'm a voracious, insatiable, avid reader."

Gilbert caught his own reflection in his father's mirror and saw himself with a proud smile.

"What have you been keeping yourself busy with?"

"Matthew and Marilla bought me Alice in Wonderland," she told him. "It's about this girl named Alice who's sitting by a riverbank with her older sister, and her sister's reading, only Alice doesn't like the book. She says it doesn't have any pictures. I don't agree with Alice there- pictures are lovely to have, but if there aren't any, you can have a wonderful time making your own."

"So you're an artist, too."

"No…only in my mind," she admitted. "I _imagine_ the pictures."

He smiled, but clearly the short visit was wearing on him.

Anne wondered if she should go, but Mr. Blythe leaned back against the pillow and let his eyes close.

"Maybe I could try it, too- do you think? Make my own pictures. Tell me the rest of the story, Anne."

He held his hand out, and she took it. "Well," she began: "After a while Alice starts to feel sleepy, because they're sitting by the flowing river and the poppies are nodding and her sister's words start to lull her to sleep. But then she sees something that startles her back to life- a white rabbit rushing across the grass, holding a pocket watch."

"A rabbit with a pocket watch, hmm? My, that is unusual."

"Alice thought so, too. She left her sister and decided to follow the rabbit. But when she followed him into a hollow tree, she began to fall. She fell a long way down- so far she thought she'd come out on the other side of the world. She was falling, but I imagined it to feel like flying, Mr. Blythe."

Anne continued, going on about the Mock Turtle's song and the race that didn't go anywhere and in which everyone got prizes, only poor Alice ran out of prizes once she got to herself.

He began to nod off, and by the time she told him the Mouse's Tale and- with delight- how the words on the page were arranged to be in the _shape_ of a mouse's tail, Mr. Blythe smiled in his sleep.


	204. Empty

Seeing Mr. Blythe usually cheered her. But his declining health made her ache with sorrow- he was too _good_ a man, and meant _so_ much to her, that when she and Gilbert decided to leave him to his slumber, she found herself struggling to let go of his limp hand.

When they'd left him and found themselves alone again, they didn't seem to know what to say or do.

"Um…" Anne did not want to leave him. The other day they'd worked together and she meant to reconcile things between them, but found herself unable to. Perhaps today she could.

"I could drive you home, unless you…"

"Maybe we could do the homework together?" she suggested, almost shy.

"Yeah," he said, brightening up. "Yeah."

Gilbert pulled a chair out for her at the kitchen table, and when he got his own, he again sat across from her instead of by her side.

They worked on the math, and then the grammar section they'd been assigned in their readers.

All the while Anne wanted to say something, but kept stopping herself. Here, in this bright kitchen, so near him, the sunlight streaming through the windows giving Gilbert a halo, it felt like too poor a subject.

And the longer she thought about what she needed to say and why she couldn't say it, the more depressed she felt.

"Anne?" Gilbert asked for the second time.

"What?" she said, straightening up, her eyes opening wider.

"I was asking if you're all right?"

"Oh- oh, yes, I'm fine," she lied.

"Good…" he was staring at her. "You just kind of zoned out for a minute, and I was afraid you were-"

Without saying it he called to mind her flashbacks.

"No, nothing like that," she said quietly. "Nothing's wrong."

But she noticed that while she was vacant from this space, he had moved his chair further away from her.

And then she could not bring herself to try to make him understand, not when he seemed not to want to be close to her. But she still had another message to give him, so she decided to share that instead.

Gilbert began again, "I got this one wrong, at first-"

"So, I'm not having a baby." Anne said flatly, interrupting him.

Gilbert looked up in surprise.

All her worry and illness and tears, but she said it so casually?

"You can tell for sure now?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, letting her pencil roll into the open binding of her book.

Her lack of any feeling over it gave Gilbert pause. "Well…that's good news, isn't it?"

Anne sighed. "Yeah, it's great."

Gilbert stared at her for a long moment before he said anything. "You weren't… _wanting_ one…were you?"

"What?" she looked up at him, disgusted. "No! Why would you think that?"

"I _don't_ think that," Gilbert said quickly. Then he said slowly, "I just...I guess I thought you'd be glad? Or at least there'd be _relief_. You actually seem kinda _down_ about it…"

She thought she was down because Gilbert was moving away from her. But after reflecting on it, he was right- the lack of a baby did nothing for her spirits anymore, either. She found herself thinking dully that somehow it didn't make any difference to her if there was a baby or not - she could not see a future for herself either way, so what did it matter?

"I don't know," she said. "I don't get it either. I _should_ feel happy…but I don't. I don't feel _anything_. I am...devoid of emotion."

"Devoid, huh?" Gilbert asked. "I wonder why."

Anne shrugged. "I don't know." She picked up her pencil and went back to her assignment.

Gilbert just stared at her.

After she finished- saying nothing else- she looked up at him and said, "I should go."

He took her home.


	205. Communication

**When Anne and Gilbert discuss their miscommunication, they obviously have to discuss intimacy since that was at the heart of the problem.**

 **It must seem like Anne and Gilbert are very young for such serious thoughts- marriage and the kind of intimacy they would have with each other in marriage.**

 **But in light of all they have experienced up to this point, and all the discussions they've been forced to have due to what has happened, this kind of talk was bound to have to happen eventually...**

 **...But I chose to have the conversation take place in a dimly lit room full of shadows because I knew- even for them, and even by now- it would still be a difficult and uncomfortable conversation to have in a lighted room where they'd have to look right at each other's face- that's why Anne could not bring herself to explain it when she was sitting in a bright kitchen with him.**

 **The darkness gives her the space she needs to explain herself.**

 **Also- kind of a warning- Anne is becoming depressed. She thinks it is because she hasn't reconciled with Gilbert yet, but it's not. (The reason has to do with what it takes to understand healing.) I won't drag it out, though- I'm going to contain it the depression within one or two chapters so it doesn't feel like depression is going on forever for you. ...And after the one or two chapters with depression, then it's time for the final chapter.**

* * *

When Anne was returned to Green Gables, she told Marilla she had a headache and she went to bed.

She slept until dinner, and only came downstairs then because Marilla told her she had to.

After dinner Matthew asked her if she'd play checkers with him, but she told him no, which was unlike herself. She lay on the sofa in the parlor after dinner, facing the cushions instead of the room, as she read more of Alice. But after finding herself re-reading pages she'd just finished, realizing she'd read without actually taking it in, she finally she gave up and told the Cuthberts she was going to bed.

"Is she...all right?" Matthew asked, after she'd gone.

He was staring after her.

Marilla looked up from her knitting. "I expect she's just tired."

* * *

Saturday passed uneventfully, but Sunday morning Anne didn't know what to do with herself and decided she wanted to go to church.

Matthew and Marilla were having breakfast- not expecting to go, as Anne couldn't be left alone- when she came down washed and dressed and ready.

"Are you sure?" Matthew asked her, staring at her with his steady, calming eyes after she said she wanted to go.

"Well, I think it's good, you getting out," Marilla said briskly. "You're back to school, no reason not to be back at church, too. I've felt convicted that we stopped going, a child ought to be brought up going to church-"

It was only a few minutes before they were on their way. But approaching the church, Anne felt she'd made a terrible mistake.

There were too many people, too many eyes lying in wait for her.

 _And Billy_ , she thought with despair. _I knew the Andrews' would be here, why did I want to do this?_

 _And Gilbert won't be here, surely- he wouldn't leave his father at a time like this._

She got out of the buggy and faced the church, with Matthew and Marilla on either side of her, her protectors from prying eyes.

As they approached the open doors, Anne stopped. "Can we sit somewhere else- not our regular pew?" she murmured, pulling Marilla's sleeve.

Matthew understood that if they sat in a different place, they might attract less stares, and maybe even go unnoticed.

Anne hoped.

They ducked into the last pew in the sanctuary, at the very end.

Anne became very busy looking at the hymnal as others came in and made their way to surrounding pews. But no one spoke to them.

When the choir began the opening hymn, Anne sat still as a statue, unwilling to look around the church, afraid she might meet a returning gaze.

After the opening hymn, the congregation rose and sang How Great Thou Art- Anne's favorite hymn. Although she stood along with everyone else, she did not sing- she could not seem to find her voice, and only leaned in to Matthew, wishing she had stayed home.

When Marilla glanced at Anne, leaning in with Matthew's arm around her, Anne expected Marilla would scold her and tell her to stand up straight and sing, but she was surprised to feel Marilla's arm reach across her too.

The singing over, the reverend began the sermon. Anne could not have told anyone what it was about. She waited only for church to be over.

But once it drew to a close, she became afraid. She did not want to get up and walk out- what if someone said something to her? What if she saw the Andrews? What if she saw Billy?

She kept her eyes down as they moved out of their pew.

Marilla- much to Matthew's chagrin- usually stayed to chat with the townsfolk after church. Today she did not. Anne was grateful that they were going home straight away.

But as they made their way to their buggy, a group of chatters passed them, walking, with the Andrews family among them. As soon as Anne saw them, her breath caught in her throat and she felt choked. She gripped Marilla's hand and stared at the ground as they passed by.

Once safely in the buggy, Anne was shaking.

Matthew once again held her close, not saying a word.

She was whispering something, but Marilla could not hear her.

"I don't want to go anymore," Anne repeated, stronger this time.

Marilla didn't say anything for a moment. Finally she said, "Getting things back to normal takes time and it takes work. You did well for your first day back." And then she said- reassuringly- "It will get easier, Anne."

But Anne was not reassured. _Things will never be normal_ , she thought. _Why doesn't anyone understand?_

* * *

Monday morning Gilbert gave her the happy news that his father seemed a bit better after her visit.

He would still go home at lunchtime, but he felt all right about staying in school at the present time.

"You worked your magic," he told her.

"I didn't really _do_ anything," she said.

"Yes, you did," he said with a smile. "You were just _you_. That's what he needed."

Anne was glad he thought she'd helped, but she still felt strangely empty of emotion and found it difficult to get through the day.

* * *

After school she went to Emily's house. Normally Anne was thrilled when Emily wanted her to keep her company while she did chores, but today she was glad Emily told her she could play with Clara up in the nursery. Anne felt she had no words left in her, and Clara didn't need any from her.

* * *

Tuesday was another gray day. Gilbert spoke to her in the morning, but he went home for lunch, and did not come back. Anne worried.

* * *

On Wednesday Gilbert was back, but only just as lunch was ending, and only to drop off a paper and pick up a list of assignments.

"Wait- Gilbert-" Anne said, moving quickly to the cloak room. "Is it your father? He's...he's worse, isn't he?"

Gilbert's eyes were darker than normal. He nodded.

"I want to come with you," she said, grabbing her coat.

"Anne, you should be in school," he said, stopping her. "You've only just come back- don't miss any more."

"Don't tell me what to do," she said stoutly, pulling her hat from the hook where it hung.

He touched her shoulder. "Look," he said. "I'll come back. After school. And get you."

She looked into his eyes. "Promise?"

"Of course," he said. "And that'll give you time to ask the Cuthbert's- are they going to be here to pick you up?"

"Yes," she told him.

"Good, then ask them- and tell them I'm sorry if they made the trip for nothing. But I'll bring you home."

"Okay...Gilbert..." she wanted to say something comforting, but she could not imagine what.

Gilbert smiled at her. "I'm glad you want to come- we need more magic. But school first, all right?"

The afternoon was hard to get through.

* * *

The house was dark and still as they entered, though she could hear the distant crackle of a dying fire in another room.

Anne walked behind Gilbert, slowly, feeling as if they were in a sort of church, quiet and somber, as he lit the lamps. She found herself saying, "I've missed him." Her voice was oddly hushed.

Gilbert turned to her, his face aglow in the lamp light while hers was half-hidden in shadow. He was so inclined to reach out to her that to avoid her was painful. "He's missed you," was all he said.

There was a moment where they seemed caught in a spell, but then Gilbert stepped back from her. "Wait here. I'll see if he's awake."

Anne looked around, and sat on the low ottoman next to Mr. Blythe's empty chair.

She could hear Gilbert in the other room, working at the fireplace to make the dying embers burn brightly, rising into flames to alight with warmth again as he spoke gently to his father. The words did not reach her ears, but the murmured voice- trying to sound comforting, trying to sound hopeful- made her think of all the times he'd spoken to her in such a voice. _No wonder he knew how to take care of me; he'd been practicing._

When Gilbert returned, she was not looking for him. She was standing at the window, the curtain drawn just slightly, casting a paleness on her already white face.

"Anne?" he asked the ghostly figure.

"It's almost gone," she said softly.

"What is?"

She turned to him. "Winter."

Then she asked, "Can I see him?"

"Come with me."

As Anne walked in, she found Mr. Blythe abandoned of all his spirit and humor. He was a still, grayish figure wrapped in white.

Anne put her hand on Gilbert's arm. "Should I be here?"

"Yes," he whispered. "We're in need of some magic."

And so Anne pulled a chair close and slipped her hand into his fathers'.

Mr. Blythe gave Anne a weak smile. "There's my girl," he said, sounding choked.

"I'm sorry you're feeling so poorly, Mr. Blythe," she said, not realizing her voice had come out in a whisper.

"I'm all right. I keep telling Gilbert not to worry-" but his cough stopped him from telling his lie.

Gilbert, next to him, rubbed his back till the coughing subsided, and then Mr. Blythe rested once more against the pillows.

"Son," Mr. Blythe said once he was able.

"What is it, dad?"

"Could you make some tea?"

"Sure- with honey?"

Mr. Blythe gave his son a smile.

"You ought to eat, dad. You didn't eat much earlier-"

He shook his head.

"But, dad, you need to keep your strength up-"

"Some toast, then," Mr. Blythe said, only to appease him.

Gilbert lay a hand on Anne's shoulder without thinking as he went out of the room.

"Anne," his father said to her.

"Yes, Mr. Blythe?"

"You're back at school."

"Yes, sir. It's wonderful to be back, and to see my friends, and Gilbert- he's been so nice to me, for so long. You have a wonderful son."

She did not realize her eyes were brimming with unshed tears until he squeezed her hand in response to her praise.

"I was thinking about you yesterday," he told her.

"Were you?"

It was a moment before he found the strength to continue.

"You mean a lot to us."

"You mean a lot to me, too," was all she could think of to say.

"I hope you always feel welcome here."

His voice seemed emptied of energy. "Mr. Blythe, I ought to let you rest..."

"I'll rest easier knowing you're here," he said. And he meant it for today, and for always.

"I'll stay."

He gave her a rare smile- one of his last few that still had the warmth of the smile he'd had in better days.

She tried to memorize his face, knowing that one warm smile would have to last her for many, many years.

"Gilbert told me you might be having a baby," he said after a moment.

"Oh- oh, no- I'm not, actually," she said quickly, with a blush.

"I'm sure that's a relief to you," he replied.

"Yes, very much so," Anne nodded.

There was another silence, until Anne revealed to him: "But Gilbert told me you knew, and that you _still_ said you didn't mind us...if we...well, if maybe someday we were to court."

He smiled. "No, I wouldn't mind a bit."

"That's awfully generous of you, seeing as I've gotten myself a reputation," she said reluctantly.

He shook his head a bit. "Life's too short to spend any of it worrying what other people think about you. The only thing that matters is the truth."

"The truth is I don't know what I'd do without him," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Then she looked up into his face, saying earnestly: "I haven't had a lot of happy moments, Mr. Blythe. Some of my happiest were here with _you_. And Gilbert, I...I never knew such a person could exist."

He laughed, beginning to cough.

"Oh, no-" she reacted, alarmed.

"No, no," he managed, squeezing her hand as if to reassure her. "I'm all right. Just happy."

"Happy?"

Gilbert came into the room then, with a tray balanced in one hand. Anne got up quickly to help.

He helped his father take the tea, but the toast was nibbled only because Gilbert would worry if his dad didn't manage a bite or two.

This seemed to take great effort, and when he had finished what little he would take, Gilbert helped him to lay down again.

Anne stood up.

"Mr. Blythe- I'm so happy to see you, but I really ought to go home. You need your rest."

"No-"

" _Dad_ , she's right, you need-"

"I want to sleep. But _stay_."

"Me?" Anne asked.

"Please stay."

"I will," could be her only answer to the listless eyes that stared into her own.

Gilbert quietly shut the door as they slipped out, stepping silently over the threshold.

Once in the parlor, Gilbert said as they faced each other in the shadowy flickers of the dimly lit room, "I'll open the curtains so it's not so dark. And the lamp; it can be brighter."

"No," she told him, laying a hand on his arm.

"No?"

"I want us to talk-and I _need_ them."

"You need...what?"

"The shadows," she explained.

"Okay," he answered in the dark, not really understanding.

Anne's breath came out ragged. "Can we talk? ...Just you, and me, and the shadows?"

"I was hoping we could."

The lamps were low. A narrow bit of light seeped in from between the two curtains where Anne had stood, but it was an otherworldly sort of paleness, the kind that settles on the horizon in the late afternoon when the winter hasn't decided for sure if it's ready to go.

They sat down on the sofa together, only inches between them. "What do you want to talk about?" Gilbert asked softly.

It seemed they had to whisper- not only because of Gilbert's father resting in the other room, but because something about sitting together in shadowy darkness made all things hallowed.

"The only thing that matters is the truth," Anne repeated the wise words of Mr. Blythe.

"The truth?" Gilbert asked.

"I made a decision for you, about your future."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, already confused.

"I decided that you would be happier with another girl."

"But I want-"

"But it wasn't _about_ what you wanted," Anne explained. "It was about what _I_ wanted: _I_ wanted for you to have a normal life. A normal, married life. And _I_ decided that you would find someone else, and so I pushed you to do that." She paused, then went on: "That's why I've been keeping you at a distance. To make it easier for you to move on."

Their faces were half hidden from each other's, but he stared at the little bit he could see- the white curve of a tender cheek.

"Move _on?"_ he whispered, incredulous. "I've found... _oxygen_. A person can't decide to stop _breathing_ , can they?"

"I'm not the only girl out there, Gilbert."

"You think you're _replaceable?"_ he trailed off, the absurdness of those words hitting him. "You think there's anyone else in the world who can _be_ what you _are?"_

She did not answer him.

"I thought you didn't love me anymore," he went on. "And even then it was hard to let go- but I thought I had to."

"I'll always love you, Gilbert. I just...needed you to think I didn't, so that _you_ could step away..."

"To know that you love me- to _know_ it!" She could see him shaking his head in the darkness. "...Anne, am I supposed to just walk away from you, _knowing_ you still love me? I _can't_. I won't."

"But you were starting to- I gave it the best effort I could and I thought what I was doing was working. You seemed so much less inclined to stay by my side, and that's what I _wanted_ \- or, it's what I _thought_ I wanted."

"The only reason I put distance between us is that I thought I'd _scared_ you," he explained quietly. "I realized how I'd...taken liberties. I never _ask_ you anymore. I just reach out and hug you, or touch you, and-"

And suddenly they were together; she had lain into him, against his chest, her hair brushing his lips as she pressed her head in the space under his. It fit as if it belonged there, as if they were made that way. He felt his arms reach slowly around her.

"Thank you for thinking you should have asked- I love you for that," she said. "But you don't."

"I don't?" he asked her, his heart beating so loudly he felt sure she could hear it.

"You don't," was her reply. "I could never be afraid of you."

They sat for a long moment, each drinking in the other's embrace as if they'd been apart for a century.

Gilbert wiped his eyes, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, with the emotion of his father's decline and Anne's own glorious revelation that she did not fear him at all.

Finally Anne pulled away to sit up again, saying: "Gilbert, I have...reasons. Why I wanted you to be with someone else. I can't...be with you. In the way married couples are supposed to be together."

"Of course we can be together! There's nothing stopping us from courting or marrying if we want to!"

Gilbert was about to remind her that he did not care about what other people thought of their reputation.

But instead, he listened, and found himself surprised that she was not talking about reputation, but about something else entirely:

"No, Gilbert, that's not what I mean. I mean a...complete marriage. The way married people...the way they are together."

There was a silence; he did not realize yet what she was talking about.

"What they _do_ ," she pressed on when he didn't reply.

 _Oh._

"You think we...can't...be together?" he asked. He did not sound angry, or upset, or disappointed. It was simply a question.

He could see her shaking her head in the dark. "And it's not that I'm afraid of you, because I'm not," she clarified. "It's just...I can't. I can't _again_. It was...it was too awful."

There was a brief silence before-

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" she spit out. "How could I marry a man and destine him to live the life of a monk!"

Gilbert didn't know what to say. It wasn't important right now, but would it be, later? He didn't know. But he could take a guess: If it seemed almost physically impossible to avoid touching her now, how long could he go without wanting to be closer to her? He could not tell her that, though, or anything else that would make things worse. Finally he said-

"Things might change. Or...maybe they won't. But either way, Anne, let's not worry about _someday_. Why does it matter now?"

" _Because_ ," she said miserably. "It isn't _right!_ It isn't right to keep up this...this relationship, or whatever it is we have! This is what leads to marriage! And if I can't do _that_ with you, then we shouldn't be getting married _at all_! ...And if we can't get married then we shouldn't be carrying on this way! It's only going to make it worse when we're older and need to _separate_."

"We don't have to separate at all. We can get married whether you can do that or not."

"You don't think you'd have an easier marriage with someone else?"

"Anne, you're making it out to be the most important thing there is- as if I should settle for someone I can't possibly love as much as I love you, just because she'll do _that_ with me? ...It's you I want to be with, Anne, whether you can do that or not."

"You can't tell me it's not important," she said flatly.

He reached out and found her hand, grasping it. "Fine. Then I'll tell you it's not the- the _most_ important thing."

"It's still important, even if it isn't the _most_ important."

Gilbert shook his head. "If you can't do that, then you can't do that, and that's the end of it."

Finally she said, "We wouldn't have any children."

He had not thought of that. Everything just got more complicated.

"You didn't want any," he reminded her.

 _He_ did, though.

Anne sighed. "I _thought_ I didn't. After Mrs. Hammond's brood...ugh. But I take care of Clara, and I _like_ it. Emily seems so _happy_ all the time, with her husband and baby, and it's such a...a _homey_ place. I've found myself thinking of someday...of a _home_ like that, and a _baby_..."

Without seeing her in the darkness, he knew she was trying to stop her tears. He could hear them. He squeezed her hand.

"I thought I didn't want a baby, and I _don't_ \- not right _now_ , and not with _Billy_. I'm so grateful I was spared of that. So, _so_ grateful..."

"Me, too," he told her.

"But taking care of Clara made me see that I _could_. I could have done it."

"You could have," he agreed. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"And I promised God I'd never ask for anything again in my whole life if He just kept me from having a baby with that horrid boy." She wiped her eyes. "But I know _now_ that I _do_ want a baby- just _someday_ , with the _right_ person."

"There are other ways to have a baby," he said. "Remember we were talking about finding a home for yours- the one you didn't have? Well, _we_ could do that. I'm sure there are other unwed mothers- other girls who've found themselves with a baby they can't keep...we could find someone who _needs_ us."

Then he had a new thought. "Or orphans. Like the orphan asylum you came from, Anne, there are _so_ many children..."

But she had started to cry again.

"I'll sound terribly selfish, not to give them a home," she said. "But I want to have one of my own, a baby I have myself. There's never been _any_ person on this earth I know I'm _related_ to. I want to...to look down and see something of myself...something of both of us...in a little one."

He had no answer for her.

"And everything is impossible," she said, her voice shuddering. "Because I just _can't_."

"I- I don't know what to tell you, Anne," he said, feeling very much lost: there was nothing he could do; there was one way for her to have the baby she dreamed of, and if she could not, then nothing could be done about it.

She didn't say anything else and for a short time they just sat.

"Maybe things will seem changed, later," he finally offered up. "We'll have years, Anne. _Years_. Maybe you'll feel differently as time goes on?"

"But you'd be taking me on with no guarantee," she warned. "You'd have to go into the whole thing with no expectations."

"I don't _have_ any expectations," he told her, holding her close again.

"Gilbert, _married_ men expect certain things from their wives; _everybody_ knows that!"

"Fine, if I can't have an expectation of _that_ , then I expect something else: That you'll _tell_ me what you're thinking! I wish you hadn't just pushed me away. We could have talked about it right away and not had all these miserable days apart. But I didn't help matters, either- I just assumed I knew what you were thinking, and I distanced myself from you, trying to fix a problem that wasn't even there in the first place. What a mess we've made; let's always talk to each other, all right?"

She allowed herself a brief moment of relaxing in his arms before she just had to put _one more warning_ in:

"You're not going to be happy, and eventually you're going to resent me for it."

Gilbert could have laughed. "I'm not going to resent you. I _couldn't_. But there's no one I'd rather live side by side with, resenting."

* * *

It seemed like hours had passed, but it was not quite night yet when Anne got up to go.

Gilbert followed her out, locking his own front door because she insisted, and helped her into the buggy, no longer fearing the touch of her hand.

As they drove to Green Gables, he was quiet. Finally he said, "My dad's gotten so much worse in the space of just a few days... If he had been like this before, I wouldn't have come to school at all."

"I know you wouldn't have."

He took a breath. "Well, I'm not coming to school tomorrow. Or...maybe longer."

Anne nodded slowly. Then she said, "You should let me stay with you."

He looked at her eyes, then- but shook his head. "You're finally back at school. You've missed so much. You shouldn't-"

"Don't tell me what to do," Anne cut in.

Gilbert had to come out of his worry for a moment and laugh at her starkness.

"I mean it. I want to be with you and your father," she said. "And unless Matthew and Marilla won't let me, that's where I'll be."


	206. His Magic

This chapter is dedicated to oz diva, for telling me what would be a good title for it, and for telling me some other pretty important things, too. : )

* * *

When Anne came home Wednesday evening, she told Matthew and Marilla tearfully about how Gilbert's father was worse.

While they were truly sympathetic, they did not feel she ought to miss school.

"Wait until _after_ school. We'll drive you over there," Marilla said reassuringly.

"And we'll go in and see him, too, Anne," was Matthew's gentle offer.

Marilla stared at him in surprise. But then she said softly, "Yes…I suppose we ought to."

"But I want to stay _all_ day!" Anne pleaded. "He _needs_ me. He's sick and he's tired and he says _I_ bring him _magic_. Oh, _please_ let me go!"

"But school-"

"There's nothing I'll learn in school tomorrow that can't be learned on any other day," Anne said resolutely. "But seeing a person when they're so fearfully ill _must_ come first."

Marilla looked unconvinced until Anne, looking into her eyes, reached her: "If anything happens to Mr. Blythe while I'm stuck at school, I'll regret it for all of eternity! How would _you_ feel, Marilla, if Mr. Blythe called _you_ his magic, and _you_ went away and left him, and then you could never, _ever_ see him again? The most dreadful thing in the _world_ is to live a life of _regret!"_

Marilla let her go.

* * *

Anne spent the day by Gilbert's side- making tea, buttering toast, mashing potatoes, stoking the fire and warming blankets over it, and telling stories until her imagination ran dry.

When it began to get dark, the Cuthberts were there, ready to bring her home.

"Should we go in…?" Marilla asked her hesitantly.

"He's asleep now," she said quietly. "Maybe tomorrow."

* * *

But on Friday morning, Mr. Blythe had more energy, and everyone's spirits were lifted. He wasn't well, by any stretch of the imagination, but he could sit up, he stayed awake a little while longer, and his eyes seemed to have light in them again.

Gilbert thought Anne should go back to school for the afternoon. "I can drive you there," he offered. "And come get you when it's over."

"I want to stay," she insisted.

"All right, all right," he said, shaking his head.

"You don't want me to?" she asked.

"Of _course_ I want you to stay. I just don't like you missing school, is all- you've had to miss so much already. But…I'm glad you're here with us. You've really helped my dad…I bet it's because of _you_ that he's better today."

"Well, I don't know that I helped _that_ much, but if I could be a harbinger of glad tidings, I'm grateful."

They smiled at each other.

Later, after they'd all eaten dinner together in Mr. Blythe's room, Mr. Blythe told Gilbert to drive Anne home. "I know they're set to pick you up this evening, but I'm all right, and if Gilbert takes you now, you'll be home before dusk and it'll save them a trip."

Anne hugged him and told him she'd be back tomorrow.

"No, no," he said. "Tomorrow is Saturday. You ought to sleep in and have time to do things for yourself. I'll be just fine."

"But-"

"Tell you what. If I start feeling poorly, and I'm in need of some magic, I'll send Gilbert round to get you straight away. Is that a deal?"

Anne ducked her head, smiling a warm smile. She gave his hand a squeeze as she said, "Well- all right. Deal. But be sure that you do. I'll be here in a _heartbeat_ if you need me."

Gilbert walked with her to the buggy and offered his hand to her as she climbed in.

"I'm _so_ relieved your father is feeling better today," Anne said, letting a breath go. "I've been so worried."

Gilbert nodded. He, too, let go of a sigh. "I have been too." He looked at her. "Thank you, Anne, for everything. You've really been there for me…for us."

There was a pause, and then he broached:

"Uh. The other day, when we talked."

"Yeah?"

"And you said you _couldn't_."

There was no need for him to clarify _what_ she couldn't.

"You said it was just too awful."

"It was," she nodded.

"Well, I was wondering…is there anything that would make it _not_ awful?"

"Like what?" Anne asked in a hopeless voice.

"Well, like not being on the ground in the woods, for starters. And not being…attacked."

"The whole thing is an attack," she explained, as if it were just a fact.

"But does it _have_ to be?" Gilbert asked tentatively. "Anne, I'm not trying to push you to be okay with it. I'm just thinking about how you decided you wanted a baby someday after all. And how that can't happen if you won't…"

She didn't say anything.

"I know I don't have any experience with that, so all I can go by is _your_ experience…but your experience wasn't good."

"No, it _wasn't_ ," she said with a stab of bitterness.

Gilbert hadn't even known very much about intimate relations until fairly recently, but it didn't sound right to him that it would be designed so one person enjoyed it while the other person was hurting- surely that wasn't how it was _meant_ to be?

Although the subject was a bit embarrassing, Gilbert thought he might ask his father if that was the truth of it? If anything, Gilbert at least wanted to know why men enjoyed it, if their wives only considered it a task that must be done- and an abhorrent task, at that.

"I guess-" Anne looked miserable. "-maybe someday I could work up the courage to let it happen just once, so there can be a baby? Maybe I can get through it, if I can imagine it's not happening. I don't think it'll work, but…"

"No," Gilbert said quickly, horrified. "No. _I'm_ not willing to do that. Nothing's happening that you have to ' _get through'_. Do you really think I could see you upset and just go on with things, as if I don't notice?"

"Well, if you're not willing to ignore my feelings and just get it over with quickly, then there's not going to be a baby. Ever."

There was no solution.

Finally Gilbert thought, "Is there really _nothing_ that can be done differently _?_ He was trying to hurt you. Wouldn't it be any different with someone who's _not?"_

"I don't see how, because even _if_ you're not shoving me to the ground and-"

"Which I wouldn't," Gilbert said quickly.

"Even _though_ you wouldn't, when it comes right down to it, you're still doing…the same…the same thing, and it _does_ hurt- _excruciatingly_ ," Then she sighed. "Emily told me it was a _good_ thing. But she _had_ to be lying to me! She probably just didn't want me to know how bad it really is when you're married…"

"I thought you said she seemed happy."

"Well…she does," Anne said slowly. "But maybe she's just happy because she got a baby out of doing that. …That's probably the only reason women go along with it: because they want to have children."

"Does she seem happy with her husband?"

"…Yeah," Anne admitted.

"I just think it's odd she'd be happy with him if she felt like she was being attacked, you know?"

"I guess…I guess when women get married they love their husband enough to put up with it." Then she looked unhappy. "I guess that's just what we're supposed to do, us women. Put up with it. But _I_ can't. I'm sorry."

"Anne…" he shook his head. "No expectations, remember?"

There was another silence.

"Maybe you should ask her more… _if_ you feel like talking to her about it? There could be things you don't know."

Anne thought about this. Then she shook her head. What _could_ be different?

With a shiver, she said, "It doesn't even _matter_ , really- I can't imagine _trying_ to do that with someone _else,_ because no matter what they did- no matter who they were- I'd still…I'd still feel like it was Billy all over again!"

While Gilbert knew what Billy had done to Anne, and he had a basic understanding of how it worked, he hadn't considered an enormous truth:

There was memory in touch.

 _Gilbert_ could touch her hair, her face, her shoulders, he could hug her, put an arm around her; Billy had never done _those_ things- those touches were Gilbert's, and Gilbert's _alone_.

But when it came to intimate relations, anything Gilbert did would be a ghostly imprint of what Billy had done _first_.

It was a truly awful realization, and one that made him sick…if he were ever intimate with Anne, she might be re-living her encounter with Billy the entire time.

Anne said, "I'm sorry Gilbert, but it's just never going to be any different."

Gilbert wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be long before this all went away and she could start over fresh. But he couldn't, because he didn't know.

He had never heard of this happening to anyone before.

* * *

Gilbert thought, later that night, as he lay in bed, about Anne over at Green Gables.

He wished there was not so much distance between them. Even just to sit awake with her when she couldn't sleep would bring comfort- to _both_ of them.

 _Was_ she sleeping? Or was she lying in the dark like he was, sleepless and full of thoughts?

He wished he could talk to her.

He didn't like thinking of her alone in her room, her only company an invisible predator- to Anne the ghost of Billy was just as real as Billy himself.

He felt guilty getting a peaceful night's sleep, knowing that maybe she couldn't.

* * *

Anne lie in the dark, thinking about Gilbert.

He wouldn't hurt her or rip her clothes or say terrible things to her while it happened.

But would any of that change what had to happen _next?_

Gilbert had said she ought to ask Emily more about it.

But Emily didn't understand what Anne had been through.

Was there anyone in the world who _did?_

* * *

I keep mentioning Anne thinking there is no one who understands, because soon she is going to meet someone who absolutely DOES understand. And that will be the turning point for her, and after that important meeting she will finally find the path to healing- and the story will finally come to an end.

* * *

Also…

I was re-watching Season 1 of Anne with an E.

In the tv show, there's a scene where Marilla walks over to the Andrews house, planning to try to talk about Anne's "knowledge" of intimate relations.

When Marilla gets there, Mrs. Andrews tells Marilla that Anne is a "trollop", which I didn't know what that meant so looked it up and it means sexually promiscuous…sigh. Poor anne..

So when Mrs. Andrews says that, Marilla gets really mad and tells Mrs. Andrews that her style of parenting doesn't seem to include being compassionate.

Mrs. Andrews looks all huffy at that, and then Marilla says "perhaps you'll muster up some compassion in church on Sunday and thank the good Lord that poor Anne has finally found safe haven." …BURN.

That scene in the show made me wonder if it was too out of character to have Mrs. Andrews begin to seem more sympathetic toward Anne, but, soon she will not be anymore. What I am trying to convey at this point is that it's like she gets what her son did but her goal is more just to smooth it over so that all the messiness can go away. …But soon, she is going to just be flat out mad at Anne and even more angry at Jane, because when Anne falls into a depression, Jane decides to put her plan into action after all. I'll post more chapters tomorrow.


	207. Descent

In the morning it didn't seem to matter what she could or could not do.

All seemed brighter because Mr. Blythe was feeling a bit better, and the prospect of marriage and a baby faded into the realms of 'someday'. She shrugged it off- they'd work it all out eventually; there was no need to fuss over it now. She'd had a good night's sleep, and everything seemed simpler in the morning.

Anne had a burst of productive energy and decided to work on her needlepoint.

"I thought you'd finished that," Marilla said, coming down the stairs, surprised to see Anne up early and sitting by the window in the kitchen, busily working.

Anne had been singing to herself as she worked; now she smiled as she held up her creation for Marilla to see. "I've started a _new_ one. Isn't the most lovely quotation? It's from _Jane Eyre_."

"It says: _I ha_ " Marilla read, with an amused smile.

"Oh," Anne said, putting it down. "Well, yes- but soon it will say: _I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one._ "

"All _that?_ " Marilla asked. "Anne, goodness, couldn't you find something shorter? Perhaps the Constitution? Or the Bill of Rights, maybe?"

"I _like_ it," Anne said, her enthusiasm not dampened in the slightest. "I think it'll come out just fine."

"Oh, I'm certain it will- next year, when you finish it," Marilla replied, shaking her head and going to the stove to begin breakfast.

* * *

Sunday morning, Anne felt optimistic about church. Gilbert _might_ be there, if his father was still feeling better. Probably not, since he might not want to leave him regardless. But there was a chance- and even a chance made it worth it to go.

Seeing Anne getting ready for church with no push necessary, Marilla did not mention Anne's statement of last week that she did not want to go back to church. She was pleased to see Anne willing to make a stab at being part of the world.

Anne brought her needlepoint with her, in case she got to see Gilbert or any of her friends. She had only finished three letters, and none of the design, but she still wanted to show it to them.

Marilla debated saying anything to Anne on the way to church, about not being nervous, or about how to handle her feelings when she saw the Andrews. But whatever she might try to advise Anne, she didn't get much of a chance, since Anne chattered on and on all the way there.

Once there, Marilla told her, "You did well last week. Perhaps this week you might try joining in on the singing. Do you think? It might lift your spirits."

Anne bounced out of the buggy and took a deep, exhilarating breath of the air that was not quite springy, but no longer wintry, either. "I fully intend to sing today, but I don't need singing to lift my spirits, Marilla. I'm happy as a clam! I'm not sure how a person can tell if a clam is happy or not- they aren't like dogs, you know, where they have waggy tails, but that's how the expression goes, funny as it is. I wonder how expressions _begin_. Have you ever wondered that? Someone must say them first, and others follow. I wonder if anything _I_ say could ever become an expression that's often heard? I think I'd like that, if it did. It makes one feel as though a little part of them is going on forever!"

"What's going on forever is your train of thought," Marilla said with a sigh. "Though I'm used to it by now. Let's go in. We'll sit in our regular pew, today."

Anne could feel a few pairs of eyes on her today, but she felt happy enough that any discomfort simply rolled off her as she sang along with the choir.

Marilla and Matthew looked at each other over Anne's head, sharing a smile that things seemed to be improving so quickly.

Though things seemed better and Anne was showing newfound confidence, Marilla thought it best to leave quickly after church, as they had last week. With Anne so happy and carefree, she hated to think any after-church gossip might reach her ears.

But as she and Matthew ushered Anne back to the buggy, Anne spotted Gilbert.

"Gilbert!" she yelled happily, running over to him.

His face looked just like a sunrise to her, as their eyes met. He could see she was happy today, and that lifted him right up to the clouds.

"Your father's still doing better?" Anne asked in a rush. "I thought he must be, or you wouldn't have come to church."

"He is. Not- not _well_ ," Gilbert admitted. "But he's feeling just like he was on Friday. That's almost three days, Anne! Three days of having some energy, and eating for real! Gives me _hope_." He smiled, a smile that was perpetually worried, but lighter now. "…I didn't want to come, but he didn't want me to stay home from church, not when he was feeling better."

"I'm _so_ glad," Anne said, bubbly.

"What's that you've got there?" Gilbert asked, gesturing to the needlepoint she was holding.

"Oh, this- it's what I started working on this weekend! I finished my first one, and so I started this. It's going to be beautiful! I can't wait for you to see it when it's finished."

Gilbert looked at the wooden frame. " _I_ _ha_ ," he read aloud.

"Oh," Anne laughed. "Well, it's going to say, ' _I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one._ "

She blushed, and he noticed.

"You've got that memorized, eh?"

"I didn't set out to memorize it, but I have, because it's very important." Anne bit her lip, very aware of the fact that Matthew and Marilla were waiting only a few yards away.

Gilbert smiled.

"Marilla says it's too long," she commented. "But I like it. Sometimes it takes a lot of words to say a thing, and it's awfully meaningful."

"Well, I agree with Miss Cuthbert, it's too many words. Make it easy on yourself: just put 'Carrots'. It means the same thing as all those other pretty words." Gilbert told her, grinning.

"Har har har," Anne said sarcastically. Inside she was flying.

But late on Sunday night, a dreadful weight settled itself in Anne's chest and brought a lump to her throat. It was not sadness, and it was not fear, in fact it was not anything she could recognize. It was an endless expanse of emptiness, a melancholy that manifested itself physically.

Marilla came upstairs to tell her goodnight, but found Anne sitting on her bed in her nightgown, staring at the wall with unfocused eyes.

"Are you all right, Anne?" she asked, concerned.

"…I don't know," came a confused reply.

"You were so happy before- are you feeling down now? I expect you're just tired out, is all. Here now, into bed and lights out."

Anne complied, and Marilla patted her on the head with a smile.

But it was a long time before sleep came.


	208. Mrs Moody Spurgeon

The morning was no better. She struggled to get out of bed. She did not feel sleepy, she felt as if a weight had been placed on her shoulders.

It took more energy than she had to dress for the day and make it down the steps.

Matthew drove her to school, and she did not talk. Something in her eyes concerned Matthew. It was as if she was an empty vessel; there was nothing behind them.

In school, Anne found herself swallowing over and over, as if there was something in the way of her voice.

"Are you all right, Anne?" Diana asked, her brow creased.

Anne looked at her for a long moment before she nodded.

"Listen- did you tell anyone else about the baby? I mean- how there isn't one?" Diana whispered.

"Oh- oh, I'd forgotten about that," Anne said absently.

Diana was surprised that it could be forgotten at all.

"Um-" Anne swallowed again- "I told Gilbert."

"So no wedding after all, then?" Diana asked teasingly.

Anne's expression did not change.

"I was only kidding, Anne. I knew you weren't going to marry, I knew that was all about Ruby! Have you told her yet?"

Anne just shook her head.

"Do you want _me_ to tell her?" Diana asked. "You don't seem particularly social today."

"I can tell her," Anne finally said. "I've forgotten why I didn't."

Diana frowned. "You said you wanted to make sure she was dead gone on Moody first."

Something in Anne's mind finally clicked. "Oh. Yes…I'll go do that now."

Ruby poked Jane to make her stop talking as Anne approached the window sill they were sitting on.

"Ruby," Anne said, the one-word greeting taking up far too much of her energy.

"Yes?" Ruby asked pleasantly. Jane looked back and forth between them.

"How much do you like Moody?" she asked bluntly. At least she remembered to keep her voice down.

Ruby swooned. "Oh, he's just the most perfect gentleman. He's walked me home _three_ times now and he always carries my books for me and offers me his jacket in case I'm cold. And he says the funniest things, without even meaning to! At first, he thought I was making fun of him, because he wasn't _meaning_ to be funny. But I told him he's just delightfully funny in the most natural way. He calls me pretty, too, and he blushes just _adorably_ when he says it." She sighed. "It's positively _heartbreaking_ that I wasted three whole years thinking about Gilbert when Moody was pining away for me and I didn't even know how much I'd like _him!"_

Anne was relieved. "So you don't want to marry Gilbert anymore?"

"Anne, I can't marry Gilbert, you're marrying him. …And he's _so_ noble to do it!"

"Well…the thing _is_ , Ruby…even if Gilbert and I _didn't_ get married, you _still_ wouldn't want him? Because you've found Moody, and he's yours now? …And you're really happy together?"

Ruby said dramatically, "I could never love another, not in a thousand years." Then she nodded and said practically, "It helps, of course, that he worships the ground I walk on."

"Of course," Anne said. "Logically I suppose it would. Now, about weddings, though-"

"Oh, _Anne_ , I wish I hadn't let you have all my wedding plans! I was thinking only yesterday how I have to start planning my wedding with Moody and I'm starting from _scratch!_ I don't have anything at _all_ , I gave it all to _you!"_ Ruby looked crushed. "And of course I can't take back my plans, because I can't do everything the same as _your_ wedding- how humiliating it would be to use the same baskets, and the same color dresses, and fixing our hair the same way! I'm going to have to plan everything _new_ , all over again!"

"Actually, Ruby, it turns out I'm not getting married after all, so-"

"You're not?"

"No. There isn't going to _be_ a baby, so you can tell your mother…d'you think your mother will be upset at me, for not going ahead with a wedding?" Anne asked fearfully.

Ruby laughed as if Anne was being silly. "Of course not! She never _wanted_ you to get married, she only thought you _should-_ you shouldn't let it be born out of wedlock! She'll be so glad you're not having a baby! …By the way, Anne, how'd you find out for sure?"

Anne hesitated. "You don't have any womanly flowering time when you're expecting. So once I got it, I knew."

Jane let go of a big breath.

Anne looked over at her as if noticing for the first time that Jane was sitting there, too- but Jane wouldn't meet her eyes.

Anne realized that Jane _already_ felt stuck in the middle of her brother and her friend. So what things would have been like for Jane if her new friend was expecting a baby that would, technically- unavoidably- be her brother's baby _too_ \- Anne did not know how she and Jane could have managed to navigate that and remain friends.

Anne turned back to Ruby.

"So with you and Moody being all happy together…would you still be upset, now, if I'm friends with Gilbert?"

"Of course not, Anne. I think it's nice, you and Gilbert being friends and all. He's no Moody, but…do you think I should go by Ruby MacPherson, or Ruby Gillis MacPherson? Or maybe everyone will just call me Mrs. Moody MacPherson. It pains me to think I'm not twenty-one; how long I'll have to wait to become a _bride!"_

She sighed, then perked up as she asked, "Oh, Anne- since you're not getting married after all, can I have all my plans back?"

Anne smiled, but it was a hollow smile. She was happy that Ruby still wanted to be her friend, and she was happy that Ruby didn't mind her being friends with Gilbert.

Why didn't that make her feel any better?


	209. Confinement

Monday over, and getting away from everyone, Anne felt she could breath. It had all become too much. She came home quieter than Matthew, and began her homework.

She wanted to lay down before it was over, and decided she'd try again in the morning; she didn't think she'd have any trouble waking up early to do it, since she felt she couldn't sleep anyway.

But she did fall asleep, finally. And then something hit Anne and changed everything.

Tuesday morning she could not get herself out of bed.

Marilla came to check on her when she did not come downstairs, and found Anne still in bed, curled up in a ball. She was not asleep, but she did not answer when Marilla asked her if she was sick.

"You don't have a fever," Marilla remarked, feeling her forehead.

"I'm sick though, I _am_. I can't go," Anne finally said, whispering.

"…Well all right," Marilla said. "I suppose you know how you feel. Stay in bed and rest today. I'll bring you up some breakfast."

But when she came back up, Anne was asleep. Marilla left the tray, sure that Anne would be roused from her sleep as the sweet scent of cinnamon tempted her nose.

But when she returned to collect it later, it hadn't been touched.

* * *

The next morning Marilla came up to see what was taking so long, and found Anne in bed again. She shook her head. "Whatever you felt was coming on, it hasn't come. You had a good rest yesterday- sleeping must have prevented it."

Anne begged her, " _Please_ don't make me go. My throat's all scratchy and my head is hot."

"Anne, you don't have a fever."

"It isn't a fever. It's my stomach."

"That doesn't make a bit of sense."

Anne looked at her with desperation in her eyes. "Just give me one more day. I need it."

"…All right."

* * *

Thursday morning Marilla was firm: "Anne, you _must_ go to school. Get up and get ready now. If you're quick, Matthew can get you there before you're late."

"Please, Marilla-"

Marilla stopped herself from being quick to come to frustration, and tried to give Anne a chance: "Anne, has something happened at school that's making you afraid to go?"

"No," Anne said. "Everything's fine now. I just don't feel good. Don't make me go to school when I'm sick."

"But you're not sick, Anne- you're not!" Marilla shook her head, exasperated. She did not know what to do.

Finally Marilla decided she needed to be firm, and let Anne know she meant business. She put on a strict expression and said "Enough is enough, Anne. I don't want any more of this foolishness! There is nothing at all wrong with you and you cannot continue to miss school. Now, you must get up and quickly get rea-"

Anne had been lying there, feigning sickness, but now she sobbed. The minute the first tear fell, she was inconsolable. She cried and cried, harder than Marilla had ever seen.

"Please-" Anne choked out. "P-ease do ma-" she broke off, unable to speak through her sobs. She gasped for air.

Marilla stood there, incredibly flustered. She reached out to pat Anne, but hesitated, then tried to again, finally bringing her arms around her.

Anne did not seek any comfort from Marilla and balked at her embrace.

That was when Marilla realized something was truly wrong.

 _She's not ill, and she **knows** she isn't ill. She **knows** she's pretending. She's lying to me and I can't even scold her for it. …I don't know **what** to do._

At last Marilla said helplessly, "All right, try to calm yourself, I…I won't make you go."

* * *

That night at dinner, as Anne slept upstairs, Marilla told Matthew of Anne's response to going to school. Matthew was just as helpless as she was.

* * *

In the morning Marilla decided _Matthew_ ought to be the one to try to coax Anne out of bed. "Maybe she'll respond better to _you_. You always seem to work some sort of charm on her, don't you?"

Matthew thought it was the other way around, actually, but he went slowly up the stairs and poked his head into Anne's bedroom. He crept in and sat down on her bed.

Anne knew he was there, but did not sit up in bed or turn around.

"Anne," Matthew said, speaking her name in a whisper. She felt his rough, farm-worn hand lay gently on her shoulder, but she still did not move. "Wouldn't you like to get up now, and have some breakfast? With me?"

Anne did not answer him. She was staring at the wall in front of her.

"Marilla says you don't want to go to school."

"No," she finally whispered.

"Is there, uh…any reason why?"

"I'm _sick_ ," Anne insisted. It had to be her reason, because she had no other. She _was_ sick, not in any way she could recognize, but she felt it nonetheless.

"Marilla…thought you didn't seem _too_ sick. Couldn't you get up and give it a try? …For me?"

Anne did not respond.

"Anne?" he tried again, gently. "What if…what if you didn't have to go to school? Would you be willing just to get up and come downstairs to eat breakfast with me?"

She did not answer, and he said: "Marilla's got a nice breakfast made. Sausage and gravy, and biscuits with raspberry jam. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

She only let go of a shaky breath.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No," she whispered.

"But couldn't you try to eat- just a little?"

Anne clung to her lie. "I'm sick."

Matthew did not know what to say. "If I brought you up some breakfast, would you try to eat it?"

She did not answer, and finally he asked, "What about- just a glass of milk?"

Matthew came downstairs alone.

"I'm just getting her some milk," he explained to Marilla. She watched wordlessly as he went back up the stairs, milk in hand.

But a moment later he was back, still with the glass.

Marilla looked up at him in expectation.

He shook his head. There was nothing to say.

Marilla seemed flustered as she wiped her hands on her apron. She glanced about the room as if she hoped to find some sort of guidance somewhere, but there was none to be had.

Then she sighed, giving up. "Well, it hardly seems _worth_ it to fight her on this when there's just one day _left_ in the week, anyway- they'll be having their spelling test, and she hasn't been in school all week to learn the words."

She shook her head, eyebrows raised, and said, "I…I just don't know what to do, Matthew."

Matthew spoke slowly. "We ought to call on Dr. Carter to help."

"She isn't _sick_ , Matthew," Marilla responded. "I _know_ she isn't."

Matthew was unsure. "Well, now, maybe…maybe there's something we can't _see_. She's slept an awful lot. No one could sleep _that_ long if there wasn't something wrong with them, could they?"

"All right," Marilla said, relenting. "I'll call upon him to take a look at her. Heaven knows I don't know what else to do."

* * *

Note: Next the kids will go forward with the plan they had for the bloody shirt, to help move things forward for anne.)


	210. Called to Action

As Dr. Carter was away on a trip, and the Cuthberts' did not want to wait, Matthew went over to Carmody Friday afternoon to see if the doctor there would come. Disappointingly, the doctor seemed rather unwilling to make the trip- short as it was- but ultimately he did.

He was not with Anne long, and when he left, he told Marilla, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with your little girl. She is playing at being sick, and you must be sterner with her". And he took his hat and left.

Matthew and Marilla, who had pinned all their hopes on the doctor, felt abandoned.

After he left, Marilla went up and told Anne that Gilbert had come while she was with the doctor. Anne replied that she did not care.

The Carmody doctor's indignant attitude and short-tempered words made Marilla feel put out with Anne, and she told her crossly, "I've turned Gilbert away three times now, Anne! Three times _before_ this! He came Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday! And _Diana_ even came, and you _know_ her mother wouldn't allow it, so she took a mighty big risk showing up here for you!"

When that did not stir any response in Anne, Marilla- sounding angry- told her, "If either of them come again- and I'm sure they _will_ \- I'm not going to turn them away, and you'll _have_ to go down and see them."

"I won't," Anne refused.

And she was right- she would not go down and see them.

So when Gilbert tried again to visit on Saturday afternoon, Marilla eventually decided to send Gilbert up to _her_.

Marilla thought that as close as they were- and as well as Gilbert handled Anne's situation in the past, that he might be of some help now.

So she had gotten Anne to sit up, and washed her face as if she were a small child, because Anne did not seem to want to bother with taking care of herself anymore. She had tried to get Anne dressed, but Anne didn't want to, and pulled the quilt back up over herself.

"Anne, seeing Gilbert will do you a _world_ of good. Hasn't it always? Come on, now- get dressed and go down to see him."

"I don't want to."

"Well, he's here, ready to see you. Do you want him to come up here? You don't have to go down, I suppose. Let's just get your dress on- look, you can just slip your dress on over your nightgown if you really don't want to change, and-"

Anne turned away from her.

"Anne, come now, you can't have him up here while you're in your nightgown!"

"He's seen it before," came Anne's disinterested reply.

"Has he?" Marilla raised her eyebrows. "Should I be afraid to hear this story?"

"There's no story. He came to the door and I was in my nightgown." Anne let out a breath as if speaking that much had exhausted her.

"Well, all right then. Here, just put on your robe, at least."

"I don't want him to come up here," Anne complained.

"Anne, I cannot let you continue this way. Now Gilbert has helped you before, hasn't he? Maybe it'll lift your spirits to talk to him, and then you can join the living!"

"Fine."

"I won't leave the two of you alone, of course- I'm already surprising myself, having him come up to your room and you not even decently dressed, but we've strayed beyond what is reasonable, haven't we?"

Then Marilla thought, "No, actually, I _will_ leave you alone. Maybe there's something you'll tell _him_ that you aren't telling _me!_ Because, Anne, you must have _some_ help."

Anne did not answer.

Marilla went down to Gilbert. "Well, I can't get her to dress and come down."

"Oh... That's all right. I knew she was sick- you said so the first time I came- but I kept hoping she'd be better… I'm sorry to hear it's bad enough that she still can't get out of bed. It's nothing too serious, I hope?"

Marilla hesitated. "No, just a touch of something. Don't worry about catching it; you can't. …Whatever she has, I don't think it's contagious."

"Well that's good…"

"She's in bed in her nightclothes, and I never thought I'd say this, but I think you ought to come up and see her anyway."

"Oh- are you sure?"

Marilla sighed. "Yes, heaven knows I don't know what else to do."

She led Gilbert up the steps and opened the door to Anne's room. Marilla muttered something under her breath about impropriety, but nevertheless she ushered him into Anne's room. Gilbert held his hat in his hands, fidgeting with it nervously.

"Anne, see here, Gilbert's come to visit you."

Anne did not respond. She was lying down, facing the other wall.

There was silence.

Gilbert whispered. "She must be sleeping. I'll come back another time-"

"She's awake," Marilla shook her head. "She must not have heard me."

 _More likely ignoring me_ , Marilla thought disparagingly.

Marilla went over to the other side of the bed so she could see Anne's face. She sat down by her side. "Anne, dear, you must sit up."

She patted Anne's hair gently and then pulled her from her shoulders trying to make her sit up. Anne finally twisted away from her grasp and sat up of her own accord.

She then looked at Gilbert, because she had to.

"What?" was her rather blunt greeting.

"I'm sorry you aren't feeling well," Gilbert told her, trying not to show how surprised he was by her cold welcome.

She just stared at him, ghostly.

Gilbert felt awkward that she was in bed, but at least she had her robe on over her nightgown.

"Gilbert, come and sit down," Marilla invited, after pulling the quilt up to cover Anne more and moving her desk chair nearer the bed for Gilbert to use. "Now, I'll leave you alone. Have a good long chat, Anne- _please_."

* * *

"Anne seems tired out," Gilbert said hesitantly as he came back into the kitchen where Marilla was cleaning. "I should let her rest. Thank you for letting me see her."

Marilla stopped washing and turned to Gilbert. He noticed her hopeful expression instantly fell as she looked at his face. "She didn't tell you anything _important_ , did she?"

"She didn't really tell me anything _at all_ …" Gilbert answered. "I guess not feeling well has her a little grumpy? She didn't seem to want me here…everything I said she'd just sort of brush off."

"I figured as much…" Marilla said with a shake of her head. "Well, how'd you end things with her?"

"She laid down with her back to me and told me to go away."

"You mean she told you to leave?"

"No, I mean she said ' _go away'_." Gilbert looked like he didn't know what to think- he could take it if Anne told him she was tired and he should leave now. But to just turn her back on him and say ' _go away?'_

"Well, I'm glad you came, anyway," she told him, walking with him to the door.

"Uh…Miss Cuthbert. I don't mean to pry, but…I was wondering if you might tell me what's wrong with her. I know you said it isn't contagious. But being close on to a week now, I'm worried…"

Marilla did not know what to say. Eventually she decided to be straightforward:

"Honestly, Gilbert, there is nothing _at_ _all_ wrong with her! She just won't get out of bed!" she exclaimed in frustration.

She took a calming breath and said, "I've had the doctor from Carmody to see her, and he can't find anything wrong! We've tried to coax her back into the world, we've tried being gentle _and_ we've tried to be hard on her, telling her she _must_ get up, but nothing at all is having any impact. …I had hoped that if she saw you, she might perk up a little- or perhaps there's something she'd tell _you_ that she _isn't_ telling us! We just don't know what to do with her!"

Gilbert did not know what to say, but he could at least provide some useful information: "Dr. Carter should be back from his trip this evening."

"Should he?" Marilla asked. "I thought he wouldn't be back until Sunday night."

"No. I know because he told me before he left that it would be Saturday evening and he was going to stop in to see my father."

"Well, that's encouraging. It's only one day sooner, but even one day seems like an eternity when we can't manage to get her out of her bed."

"He said he'd come to my house as soon as he got in…can I give him the message for you, when he gets there? I'm sure he'd come right over, and then you wouldn't have to drive over to ask him yourself."

Marilla felt relief. "Yes…yes, that would be helpful. Thank you, Gilbert. Hopefully Dr. Carter will have some answers. There _has_ to be something wrong with her that the other doctor just isn't _seeing_."

* * *

Gilbert was right: Dr. Carter returned to Avonlea that very evening, a bit earlier than he'd expected- not quite dinner time, yet- and came to Green Gables as soon as he was finished at the Blythe farm.

Matthew and Marilla hoped Dr. Carter wouldn't dismiss Anne as quickly as the other doctor had. There had to be _something_ wrong with Anne that a doctor could _do_ something about. Matthew and Marilla felt desperation at the thought of Anne beginning another week of school in bed at home, and Marilla was clinging to the hope that Anne's dark mood could perhaps be attributed to some sort of physical illness, one that could be treated with medicine and get her quickly well.

Marilla brought Dr. Carter up to the little gable room and told Anne, "Look, Dr. Carter came to see you."

Anne glared at Marilla. Then she sighed, giving up, and looked at Dr. Carter.

Dr. Carter pulled Anne's desk chair over to her bed so he could sit down beside her. "Hello, Anne."

"Hello," was Anne's greeting, said in a dull voice that Marilla wanted to scold her for.

"Miss Cuthbert says you're convinced you're ill. What seems to be the trouble?"

"They already had a doctor come look at me," Anne said flatly.

Marilla explained quickly, "We would have gone to you _first_ , of course, only you were away."

"I quite understand," Dr. Carter told her. Turning back to Anne, he asked, "And what did the other doctor think?"

Anne didn't say anything.

"Are you in any pain?" he went on when she didn't answer.

Anne didn't know _what_ to say. Finally she nodded.

Dr. Carter waited for her to explain, but she didn't say anything else.

"Can you tell me where it hurts?" he asked kindly.

Anne finally spoke- tears springing to her eyes- "Everywhere. It hurts everywhere."

And it was true.

"Your wrist was hurt a few months ago, when you were attacked. Has it been feeling achy? Sometimes the weather can make old injuries ache..."

Anne shook her head.

"What's hurting, then…is it the other place you were attacked?" He paused, watching for her reaction. "There's no shame in it- it's just a body part, same as your wrist." Then, realizing she may not be honest about the origin of her pain if she feared being subjected to something invasive, he added: "I don't have to _look_ , Anne- I just want to know if that's where you're hurting?"

She shook her head. "It isn't that, either."

He glanced at Marilla.

"Well, I'm not sure what's wrong, yet. But I think if we keep talking we can get to the heart of the matter. Have you been sleeping well?"

"Too much," Marilla put in.

"And have you had an appetite?"

Anne shook her head slowly.

"Are you _worried_ about anything?"

"No. I don't know. I don't _think_ so. Everything is fine now. There's no baby, and Billy isn't coming back to school, and I have friends now…everything is good." But upon the words _everything is good_ , Anne's eyes filled with tears and a sob rose in her throat.

"Well, let Dr. Carter do a check up on you, maybe you're coming down with something." She turned to Dr. Carter. "The other day she was convinced she'd contracted strep…and then later she said it was her stomach, and as far as I recall, strep doesn't affect one's _stomach_."

"Actually," Dr. Carter spoke up, "Strep _can_ go to the stomach- but that's very rare. Anyway, streptococcal bacteria is contracted through contact with someone's respiratory droplets and it's _highly_ contagious, but I don't know of anyone in town who has strep just now, so she's likely safe from that."

"Well, I'll leave _you_ to it, then." Marilla left, shutting the door behind her.

"It's possible to carry strep without manifesting any symptoms, so someone could be spreading it and not know they're spreading it…" Dr. Carter opened his bag. "I doubt it's strep, but let's have a look."

* * *

Anne could hear Dr. Carter speaking to Marilla in low tones downstairs, but she couldn't hear his words.

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her, not physically," he said. "I checked her eyes and ears, nose and throat, and listened to her heart and her breathing. Her blood pressure is within normal range. And she's not running a fever. No mouth ulcers or any other symptom of strep. But I spotted some pretty severe irritation on her wrist, and it worried me."

"A rash," Marilla said, relieved to have some sort of solid answer to hang on to. "Could it be a reaction to something? Perhaps something she ate? Or- oh, you don't think it could be scarlet fever, do you?"

"No…I noticed while we were talking that she kept digging her nails into her wrist and scratching it. I stopped her and pointed out that she was causing herself to bleed. …I think she's been picking at her skin on purpose- and it looked to me as if she's been doing this for quite a _while_ , now- which she may be doing as a coping mechanism."

"What do you mean- a coping mechanism?" Marilla asked, not having heard the term before.

"When one is experiencing a great deal of stress, one finds ways to relieve that stress. Not all ways are healthy."

Dr. Carter paused before he said, "And Miss Cuthbert, frankly…some of Anne's statements to me were…rather alarming. I know she's prone to some unusual thoughts, but this was…this was something _else_. I'd be worried about her doing other, similar things. Have you ever seen her purging her food after she's eaten? Have you noticed her taking any sharp objects into her room, maybe hiding knives, or-"

Marilla looked shocked first, and then offended. "She may be feigning illness, doctor, but she's no…madwoman!"

"Miss Cuthbert, please- allow me to explain. Anne is no madwoman. She's a young girl in distress. She's trying to cope with something far beyond her ability at present. I don't wonder that she's resorted to something destructive."

"What is there to be _done?"_ Marilla asked. "We can't let her go on this way."

"I…I must admit I'm not sure of how to _help_ her. …I haven't faced such things before…"

Marilla was desperate. "But surely you've heard, or read- _something?"_

He thought for a moment, then said slowly, "I read an article in a recent medical journal of a study out in Colorado, where patients suffering from melancholia were helped enormously by sitting in hot springs. They thought- at first- that it was just the relaxation of the hot water, but, the effects were far greater than sitting in hot water in other ways such as a hot bath. So they're looking into what's causing it…there may be something specifically about the hot springs themselves- maybe breathing in the _minerals_ from the steam that rises out of them."

"Minerals from the steam..." Marilla took in. "Where are these hotsprings? I mean, not in Colorado…are there any closer?"

"Well, we don't have any on the island, but some of the other provinces- Alberta, for one-"

"We can travel," Marilla said suddenly, desperate.

Dr. Carter looked unconvinced. "Miss Cuthbert, the hotsprings in Colorado…they were only found to be effective temporarily. The patients had to visit them quite frequently- two, three times a week, even…"

"For how long?" Marilla asked.

"Indefinitely," came his devastating response. "Once away from the hotsprings, it was only a few days before they were returned to a state of melancholia."

He trailed off, and Marilla could feel the weight of the silence afterward.

Dr. Carter touched her arm comfortingly. "I'll search for answers for you, but in the meantime the only thing I can tell you is to watch her carefully so she can't cause any harm to herself."

* * *

When the doctor had gone, Matthew came back into the picture, having stayed away in case the doctor had any diagnoses of a feminine nature to discuss with Marilla.

Marilla- in broken statements- explained what Dr. Carter thought of Anne.

"He said she may be doing other things- hurting herself," Marilla said, wringing her hands.

"Hurting herself?" Matthew asked in surprise.

"To…relieve herself of her worry," Marilla tried to explain. She gazed away, brow wrinkled and eyes unfocused.

That didn't make sense to Matthew. "Why would _hurting_ herself make her feel _better_?"

"I don't know but I don't want to think that's all there is to it," Marilla said, feeling panic rise in her. "I don't want us to think she's going to- to- _stab_ herself or- or-"

Matthew took a shaky breath as his sister collapsed against him in tears.

"Perhaps Dr. Carter's jumping to conclusions," Matthew thought of suddenly as he hugged his sister.

"You think so?" Marilla asked hopefully, raising her head up to look at him now. "Yes! Perhaps there's something more…more concrete, more _medical_ …maybe some sort of illness he hasn't encountered before."

Matthew spoke up, "Maybe another doctor, with more experience, would see something."

It was a few minutes before Marilla could answer. "But who…? We've already had the doctor in Carmody and he said there was nothing…oh, Matthew, why didn't I notice her _wrists?_ And her eating- I _knew_ she wasn't eating! I wonder if she's thrown up her food on purpose? And Dr. Carter said that Anne had made statements to him that he found ' _alarming'_. He said she might try to use sharp objects next, instead of just scratching away at herself."

Just then there was a knock on the door.

Marilla tried to get ahold of herself and wiped her eyes as she went to the door. Looking out, she saw the faces of Diana and Jane looking back at her.

She opened the door quickly.

"Good day, Miss Cuthbert," Diana greeted her cheerfully. "I hope you're doing well. I wondered if Jane and I might visit Anne? I know you said she's sick, but as long as it isn't catching, we'd like to talk to her. We've missed her at school this week. …It's too bad she was asleep the other time I came. It was awfully hard for me to get away without my mother knowing, and I didn't even get to see Anne."

"No, I'm sorry you didn't that day. But you can see her today, she's up. Has your mother allowed it, or are you here…discreetly, shall we say?"

"Discreetly," Diana answered back, liking the way the word sounded.

"Well," Marilla said, ushering them in, "It's very good of you girls to drop by. You may go up. I must warn you, she hasn't been very friendly. She's rather altered. But I _hope_ she will talk to you. She's, uh…she's just not feeling well, so if she's grouchy, try not to take it personally."

Diana, optimistic, went skipping ahead, but Jane seemed less enthused. Marilla held her back as Diana went up the stairs.

Jane looked up at Marilla with trepidation.

Marilla said kindly, "Jane, I sense you feel a bit awkward, but I want you to know that Anne doesn't hold you responsible for what your brother's done, and neither do I, or Mr. Cuthbert. We're all very grateful to you."

Marilla patted her shoulder, looked into Jane's eyes- now shining- and said, "I know things can't be easy for you now at home, but I hope you know you are always welcome here. …I think you're very brave, dear."

Jane's face changed from weary to brilliant in the space of a heartbeat. After one big grin to Marilla, she rushed up the stairs, ready to see her new friend.

When she arrived, Diana was sitting on the edge of Anne's bed. Jane took a seat on Anne's desk chair.

Anne was doodling away in her school composition book and seemed to take no notice of the two girls.

"What have you got there, Anne?" Jane spoke up, when it became obvious Anne was not going to initiate conversation with them.

Anne wordlessly held it up for her.

"Is it a picture of your family?" Diana asked pleasantly.

"Yes, of course. _And_ there's the cherry tree from the train station; it was my first friend, you know."

She laid it back on her lap again and continued drawing.

Jane got up and sat down on the bed next to Anne.

"Why are there two Miss Cuthbert's?" Jane asked her.

"Hmm?" came her high-pitched reply.

"There are _two_ Miss Cuthbert's. …You've drawn her twice."

"Oh. Yes, I meant to do that."

The other two stared at each other.

"Um…why?" Diana broached.

Anne looked up as if she'd forgotten Diana was there.

"Mrs. Lynde came up here earlier and she said: 'Now, Anne, you've got to get out of bed. Marilla is just beside herself'. So- there's Marilla, _beside herself_."

Diana would have laughed; it would have been funny if she had said it any other time. But today she spoke in a funny, absent voice as if she were willing herself away to some other existence so that she did not have to be present in this one.

Jane decided to give Anne some news that she may find helpful: "I thought you'd like to know that Prissy left school, too. …I know you felt awkward being around her. Now you won't have to."

"Why'd she leave?" Anne asked, finally interested in her guests.

"Mother and Father don't want her in school with Mr. Phillips now. They said he's acted outside the role of a teacher and they complained to the school board."

"Really," Anne commented, finding this interesting.

"Well, they aren't entirely against Mr. Phillips- they thought he would be quite a respectable suitor, had Prissy been older. But she hasn't even started wearing her hair up yet like a grown up lady, so they feel he's taken liberties."

Anne nodded.

"Is she stopping school, then? She was planning to go to Queens…" Anne trailed off, unsure how to feel about this. Jane was right; Anne _did_ feel awkward being around Prissy. But she didn't want Prissy to have to drop out, either.

"No, they're just keeping her home. They had to hire a private tutor already, remember? So, Prissy'll be home and the tutor's going to finish off her schooling and prepare her for the Queens' entrance exam."

"Are you upset about it?" Anne asked fearfully. "Both of them home together and you going to school all by yourself?"

"Not at _all_ ," Jane said, thinking to herself that school would be easier for her now. She had always been close- no, not just close- _fiercely loyal_ \- to her siblings, but after all this trouble started, she didn't mind having school as a place to herself, away from her family.

Even though it was really for the best that Billy was away- and it was best for Prissy, too, to do her schoolwork without the teacher leering at her, Anne still felt responsible for the situation and whispered, "Do they hate it?"

"Well, Billy's furious. Mother hired a lady, because of Prissy. She didn't want Prissy sitting with a man, you know? But Billy says ' _you can't learn anything from a woman_ '. Mother told him she has a license and she went to a very prestigious university- she's got _two_ degrees, actually- but Billy's unconvinced. …He hasn't been exactly nice to her, but he does his work, at least. I think it might be the first time in his life he's had to work hard. After all, with only two students, there's no room to goof off."

Anne nodded. "That's good."

"Yeah. So once you're all better, and you come back, _neither_ of them will be there and that'll make it easier, I think, don't you?"

Anne nodded again, but this time biting her lip.

"What's wrong, Anne? You look worried," Diana asked, brow creased.

"They still come to church," Anne whispered.

"Well…yes," Jane admitted.

"And when Sunday school starts up again..." Anne went on in a whisper. "Town hall meetings. Church functions. The holiday pantomime. And quilting bees and barn raisings and shopping in town and…" she trailed off.

Diana and Jane looked at each other, worried. Billy had been made to leave school. But leaving school wasn't enough.

Anne needed him out of Avonlea.


	211. What to Do

Hi everybody. I'm sorry for going two months with no new chapter. Really. I can't believe I stopped writing for two months. I just got to where I couldn't do anything because I was depressed. I'm better now. Part of what got me to wake up a little was realizing that in a few days it will be a whole year since I started writing my story, and I want to finish it. I left Anne in depression and now it's time to write her out of it.

Also, I am going to update a lot within the next day or so, because even though I said there were only 10 chapters left, I literally just wrote 30 pages and there's no way I am putting up 30 pages as ONE chapter lol so these 30 pages will be split up. But I will still post them all today and tomorrow.

* * *

On the way home from Green Gables, Diana and Jane were having a serious discussion.

Originally, saving the bloody shirt had only one purpose. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews would have preferred to think that Anne was corrupt and had brought this upon herself. Jane keeping the shirt was an attempt to prove that it couldn't be Anne's fault, because the bloody shirt meant Anne had been trying to fight back.

But the plan had been deemed no longer necessary since Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had agreed to pull Billy out of school. Everyone thought that would make it all better. …Only now it seemed that wasn't enough. Their original plan, made long ago and never used, would have to be re-purposed now.

"The thing is-" Jane said. "The thing is, it's not just about what _my_ parents believe. It's about what _everyone_ believes. The whole _town's_ heard the rumor that Anne tried to pin a baby on my brother so she'd be able to finagle money out of our parents. That's what Josie told everyone! Ugh, _Josie_ \- I'm _so_ angry with her!"

"Me too…and Josie even dragged Gilbert into it," Diana said with a shake of her head. "Telling everyone the baby was his! It's _awful_."

"I'm sad for him, too, of course," Jane agreed, "But the rumors have done nothing to him- did you notice that?"

Diana nodded. "All anyone cares about is if _Anne's_ wicked. No one seems to mind so very much if a _boy_ has…"

Diana trailed off, and Jane asked, "What?"

"… _Escapades_ ," Diana finished, blushing pink.

"Your mother would be furious if she knew you came up with a word for that! Be careful what you say at home, Diana, or she might never let you speak to Anne again!"

But Diana looked sad. She wasn't thinking about her mother; she was thinking about what it would be like to have all those judging eyes on her: "No wonder Anne's hiding in her bedroom! Wouldn't you just _hate_ to go into town- _ever_ \- if people were thinking those things about you? _I_ would; I'd die of shame!"

But then, seeing Jane's face, Diana quickly said, "You know, let's not think anymore about it now. Let's hold off till Gilbert's with us. We're _all_ on Anne's team; we should wait until we're all together- then we'll figure out what to do."

"Okay," Jane agreed with Diana, breathing out slowly. She was relieved to feel she was 'allowed' to forget about it for a little while. It was all becoming such a burden.

Looking over at her, Diana suddenly squeezed Jane to her. "We'll get it all worked out, Jane. For now, let's go to my house and bake cookies! …My mother doesn't have to know we'll bring some to Anne."

Jane smiled, and Diana thought it finally seemed genuine. She hurried Jane along faster to the Barry's, and before long she and Jane were covered in flour, laughing.

* * *

Gilbert arrived to school late, and Jane and Diana did not have time to speak to him before class.

"It isn't enough," Jane said in a whisper as she and Diana sat hidden away together in the corner of the cloakroom with their lunches.

"What isn't enough?" Gilbert asked, joining the girls.

Jane looked up at him. "I thought when we told her Prissy stopped coming to school, that it would be enough to get her to come back. Because she felt awkward around Prissy after all this."

"She knows Prissy isn't coming back?" Gilbert asked, confused.

Diana explained, "We went to see her on Saturday."

Gilbert was surprised. "I went Saturday, too," he told them. "In the afternoon."

"We went in the evening," Diana said. "…How did it go for you?"

Gilbert was honest: "It didn't go well."

"It didn't for us, either. She was acting really strange."

"Even for her," Jane put in.

Gilbert and Diana looked at her.

"…Sorry," she said.

Diana sighed. "She wasn't making sense…it was like she wasn't even there."

Gilbert said, "She _said_ something, though? _I_ didn't get things that didn't make sense…I didn't get _anything_. She wouldn't even talk! She just ignored me, and after a while she pulled the covers up and told me to go away."

"You went up to her room?" Diana asked, surprised.

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, that just goes to show how desperate Miss Cuthbert is to wake her up. …But, about Prissy…Anne didn't even care?"

"Well, I think that was the only time she was actually paying attention to what we were saying, at least," Diana explained. "But no, it didn't help a bit. Once we told her, she just started talking about all the reasons it wouldn't help…"

"Why wouldn't it?" Gilbert asked. "What did she say?"

Jane explained. "They're still everywhere else…at church, in town."

The three were silent for a moment.

"And that's not all," Jane said sadly. "What about all the people who've heard the rumors; Anne still has to face all of _them_ in town! They don't know the truth… _we're_ the only ones who do."

"Well, your parents know. It isn't as if they're denying it any longer. So that's _something_ ," Gilbert reminded her.

"Yeah- but that's only in private, Gilbert! My parents aren't going to go around telling everyone in town what the truth is. They're just going to wait for the whole thing to go away!"

Jane's face was angry; Diana and Gilbert's sympathetic.

"I still have the buttons I found on the Cuthbert's floor," Gilbert offered up. "And…I don't feel right about showing people Anne's petticoat and stockings, but…we really need something _more_ than just Billy's shirt as proof, don't we? …Maybe if I can explain it to Anne in just the right way, she'll let us have them." But then Gilbert shook his head. "Never mind, I'm sure she won't; we'll have to do without them."

Diana bit her lip. "But even _if_ we had them…what would we _do_ with them? Just show them to people? That isn't much of a plan."

"So we're going to have to add _more_ ," Jane said, feeling more practical and ready to start making decisions. "This whole thing started with rumors. Maybe if _we_ spread rumors…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't think I know how to spread rumors."

"There's someone who could spread rumors for us," Diana said. "But in her case, we really _would_ need Anne's stockings." Then she sighed, a depressing thought forming. "Even _if_ we get the whole town to believe us, what if it only gets worse? I wouldn't put it past people to think Anne deserved what happened to her!"

Jane was quiet, staring ahead, unfocused. Then she said quietly: "Maybe once everyone in town knows what Billy did, then Mother and Father would send him away somewhere. …I don't know where, but…I don't see any other way for this to get better for Anne…"

No one said anything.

Gilbert was thinking. "You got Billy to leave school, but, Jane, that's a _lot_ different than trying to get him out of town."

"Well, what else will help Anne?" Jane asked louder, upset. "Trying to fix her reputation might not do it. Even if the whole town decides to be on her side, she's _still_ going to have to see Billy!"

There was no way for Anne and Billy to coexist.

Jane continued, on the verge of tears. " _All_ of it matters- her reputation, everyone seeing her, her seeing Billy… _I_ have to fix _everything!"_

"You mean _we_ ," Diana said gently, her hand on Jane's shoulder.

Jane shook her head, wiping her eyes. "No, I mean _I_ do. I feel like this is all my fault…"

Gilbert's eyes melted. "Jane, how could _any_ of this possibly be _your_ fault?"

"I don't know…because he's my brother, I guess," Jane whispered. "I just feel so bad."

Diana hugged her. "I'm so sorry, Jane. This is just awful for you."

Jane tried to hold back the tears she felt coming, very aware of being at school and not wanting anyone to hear her crying. "Well, it's more awful for Anne than it is for me. But _still-"_

Diana hugged her tighter when Jane could not continue. "It's awful for you, too. It feels like you're losing your big brother, doesn't it?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to love him anymore or something," she cried. "But I _do!_ I hate what he did, but he's still my brother and I still love him!"

"Jane," Diana said comfortingly, "It's all right. You don't have to stop loving him."

"Well, trying to make him leave town doesn't seem much like I love him, does it?" Jane broke off, crying. "I _knew_ it might come to this. But- " Sobs that had been building for a long time came pouring out as she sputtered, "But he's my _brother_...I want to help Anne, but I don't _want_ Billy to _go_ anywhere…"

Diana just sat quietly, Jane huddled against her.

Finally Diana spoke up, saying, "He doesn't _have_ to go anywhere. Maybe with more time, Anne will be better."

"Yeah," Gilbert said gently. "She's strong. She'll figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. We all love her and we'll keep doing whatever we can to make it easier for her. We can make it work out. There's no reason for you to have to be the sacrificial lamb here."

"No," Jane said, shaking her head emphatically. "This is the only way. Anne _needs_ this."

But she looked miserable.

Diana looked like she did not want to bring this up, but finally said: "Jane…your parents are already unhappy with you. If they know you're trying to get the townsfolk to know what Billy actually did…"

Before Jane could react, Gilbert stated: "We can do this without you."

Jane choked on a sob and looked up at him.

Gilbert explained quietly: "You don't have to be a part of it. I know this whole thing has been your idea all along, but that doesn't mean you have to be the one to take the fall for it. Tell your parents I betrayed you."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked in a whisper.

"Tell them you took Billy's bloody shirt from the laundry because you didn't want your mother to be upset by it. You couldn't leave it soaking at home because she'd see it, so _I_ offered to take it home and wash it for you. But then I kept it and betrayed your family with it. …They'll never have to know _you_ were involved in this plan. They'll be angry with me, not with you."

Jane looked like she was thinking. Finally, she shuddered, wiping her tears away, and sitting up straighter, "No. I'm in this now and I'm in it all the way. There's no backing out."

"Are you sure, Jane?" Diana asked kindly.

"I hate what I'm about to do," she said. "But I don't think I'm wrong for doing it."

Gilbert didn't say anything. He and Jane's eyes were locked together. Gilbert squeezed her hand.

They were interrupted by two pairs of boots. They looked up into the faces of Ruby and Tillie.

"We overheard you," Tillie began nervously.

"And we want to help," Ruby said.

* * *

That afternoon, Jane got the shirt from where she'd hidden it in her closet. It was now stiff with dried blood. She folded it carefully and placed it inside a shawl. She left on her own to walk into town and talk to Dr. Carter.

Gilbert stopped at Green Gables before heading home. He asked Marilla if he could see Anne just for a moment, and with a sigh, she waved him up.

The same afternoon, Diana walked into town all by herself, nervously knocked on a door and asked if Morgan Ryland was at home.


	212. Drowning

"Anne," Gilbert said gently, standing in the doorway of her room.

She wasn't sleeping, but she didn't answer him, either.

He came in and sat down. "Anne, I talked to Diana and Jane today."

She didn't look at him.

He scooted the chair closer to the bed.

"Your hair looks nice down like that," he commented. "Although- is it wet? I hope you won't catch cold."

Finally she spoke. "Marilla dragged me out of bed and told me I had to take a bath. And I said I wouldn't. Then she left the room. I tried to follow her out, but the second she left the room she locked the door behind her, so I was stuck in there, and she said she wouldn't let me out till I took a bath. So I did. And I hate her."

Gilbert did not know what to say to that, so all he said was, "Well, she's worried about you, Anne…we all are."

"She tried to drown me."

"She tried to drown you, huh? That's…unfortunate."

"I took a bath, didn't I, and that wasn't even good enough for her. When I was done, she finally let me out of the room, but then she said, 'Anne, you didn't wash your hair.' And I said I _wouldn't_ , wasn't it enough I took a bath? Then she dragged me over to the sink and shoved my head in and scrubbed away like she was trying to make all my hair fall out, and then she dumped water on my head. …She was trying to drown me."

Gilbert tried not to laugh. Anne was not the most reliable narrator, and while her hair had obviously been washed, he sincerely doubted Miss Cuthbert had "shoved" her head in and "dumped" water over her or "tried to make all her hair fall out."

All he said was, "I'm sorry she tried to drown you. I'm glad you're still alive."

"I'm not."

" _Anne_ ," he said, suddenly broken and terribly worried. He reached out for her hand. "Anne, please don't say things like that. If anything happened to you I…I don't know what I'd do. I couldn't go on."

Anne did not respond to that and asked only, "Why are you here?"

After a moment he began, "Well, we were thinking that maybe…if you would agree…we'd try to get Josie to come round to our side."

Anne looked up at him. "Josie hates me. And she's the one who started the whole thing. Why do you think she'd do anything to help?"

"Josie doesn't know the truth."

"Yes, she does!" Anne said loudly, sitting up. "She _knows_ what Billy did! Even when she thought Billy made me have a baby, she was _still_ on his side! You're a fool if you think she'll ever be on my side!"

"But-"

"Aren't you angry with her?! She told half the town it was _your_ baby, Gilbert!"

Then Anne said bitterly, "Of course the rumors didn't do a thing to _you_ , did they? No one gossips about what _you_ might have done. It's all on _me!"_

Gilbert felt terrible. "I know, Anne, it's not fair and I'm sorry."

She was quiet. Then she whispered, "Could you get me a hankie? They're in the first drawer."

Gilbert got up and went to her dresser. "Here?"

She nodded.

He awkwardly opened the drawer and was very relieved to see there was one right in front so he wouldn't have to go digging around for it.

He brought it to her.

She sat up to take it, and was wiping her nose as Gilbert sat back down.

Her damp hair fell loose around her shoulders and as she let the hankie drop to her lap she wrapped her arms around herself.

"You're cold," Gilbert realized. "Let me go ask Miss Cuthbert for another quilt."

"No, don't," she pleaded. Only a moment before, she wanted him to go. Now, she couldn't bear to think of him leaving her.

"But you're cold."

"I'll be all right. I have my robe on."

Gilbert slipped his jacket off. "I know, but…look, wear my jacket, too, all right?"

Anne said, "I don't really blame _you_ for the way people took the rumors. You can't help what they care about. …It just doesn't seem _fair_ that girls are _scrutinized_ so much while boys are just waved off for the very same thing."

Gilbert pulled his jacket around her. "It's not right. And I don't blame you for being angry."

"Why did you ask me if I was all right with you trying to get Josie to change her mind? _Of course_ I'd be glad if she changed her mind. But she won't."

"Uh," Gilbert began, knowing this had to be handled just right. "Remember how Billy told Josie that you threw yourself at him?"

"How could I forget? Poor, naïve Billy couldn't help himself, me being such a seductress and all!"

"Well, Josie believes that, right? That's why she defends him."

Anne shook her head, angry. "What's wrong with a girl that she likes a boy _so_ much she's willing to make excuses for him?!"

"I don't think she'd be on his side anymore if she had proof that he truly did attack you."

Anne was staring at him.

"So," he continued fearfully, "We were thinking that if we had some real _proof_ it was an attack- and how vicious an attack it was- that she'd realize Billy lied to her…"

"What do you mean, proof?"

Gilbert moved so he was sitting next to her. "We- Diana and Jane and I- were hoping you might be willing to show Josie your stockings and petticoat. Or-" he rushed quickly, seeing her face- "Or just one or the other. Just something."

Anne stared at him a moment. Then she said, "She'll probably just think I ripped them myself."

"But we also have Billy's shirt- the one he was wearing that day he came over here, when we were alone. Jane took it, and it's never been washed; the blood is still on it."

Anne looked sick.

"Even if a person ripped up their own clothes, they couldn't fake blood, could they? Especially not on _his_ shirt. Why would _his_ shirt be bloody? There's no way you could have set that up. She'll know it means something really did happen. And your clothes, well, it's just more proof, you know?" Gilbert said. "We don't really have to have it, I guess, but we thought it might help to convince her."

Anne sat there, thinking. Then she shook her head. "I don't want people looking at my underthings. Even if it's just Josie."

Gilbert nodded slowly. "All right," he said. "'I understand."

They sat, quiet, for a moment.

Gilbert finally asked, "Do you want me to go?"

After a pause, she said, "No."

It bothered Gilbert that she wasn't talking like she used to. He was still holding her hand, now he squeezed it.

"I really do love you, Anne," he said quietly, looking down at their intertwined hands.

"I know."

That was all she said.


	213. The Pyes

Morgan Ryland paid the Pye household a visit that afternoon.

Mrs. Pye accepted him in graciously, thinking he was just coming to call, after not having seen him since he first went away to law school. They chatted for a few minutes until Morgan told her he had a train to catch back to the university and wanted to get to the point of his visit.

"Mrs. Pye, I'm sure by now you know the truth of the matter regarding the Andrews' boy."

Mrs. Pye looked stiff. "I am aware that…that _girl_ has made false accusations against him."

Morgan paused. "I don't believe they're false, ma'am. I believe he attacked her."

"Attacked her?!"

Morgan was caught off guard. "Yes…what did you think I was referring to?"

"Well…she and Gilbert Blythe engaged in…impurity. Together. And Anne's trying to pass her child off as Billy's in order to get money from the Andrews."

Morgan just stared at her for a moment. Finally he said, "Ma'am, I don't know how to tell you this, but whatever the rumor mill has churned out, it's unfounded…Anne was _attacked_ by that boy. Billy. He attacked her in the woods on the way to school. …I offered them advice about how to proceed with police involvement."

Mrs. Pye did not say anything.

"There's no doubt in my mind an attack happened. But the real reason I wanted to visit- and I must head off in a moment, I'm due on a train leaving at four-fifteen- is simply to warn you about the legal realities of it."

"What do you mean?"

"The reason the Cuthbert's are not pursuing the matter is that a trial would be an ordeal for an already distraught victim," he said.

He took a deep breath. "I've heard of your daughter's defense of Billy, and it concerns me."

Mrs. Pye looked confused.

"The fact is, Mrs. Pye, if Billy were to do the same thing to _your_ daughter, there really would be very little you could do about it. Your daughter would be subjected to a long and exhausting trial, where she would be forced to recount the tale to a group of strange men who would then badger her about her own virtue and whether or not she tempted him."

"Josie would never do such a thing. She isn't _like_ Anne!"

"It makes no difference at all whether Josie is a virtuous girl or not; by default she will be treated as if she isn't."

Mrs. Pye looked troubled.

"If I may _advise_ you, Mrs. Pye, I would not allow your daughter to associate with that boy. Should something happen to her, you would be all but defenseless against the law. Her name would be in the papers, her story will be twisted, and her life will be changed."

He took a deep breath. "The only way to avoid that is to do nothing, but then she- just like Anne- will have to see her attacker in her day to day life, which might be considered just as much of a hardship as going through a trial."

Mrs. Pye did not say anything. Her mouth was set in a tight line; her expression unreadable.

"I must set off. Please write to me if there is anything I've said that you have questions about. I'll see myself out."

* * *

It was on that very same day that Dr. Carter stopped by the Pye's home after making a house call at a neighboring farm. He looked troubled, as if he didn't want to be there, but thought he had a duty.

"May I speak with you, Mrs. Pye?"

He came into the parlor and talked to Josie's mother in hushed tones that Josie strained to hear as she hovered at the top of the stairs.

Dr. Carter was quieter than Morgan Ryland had been, and Josie could only catch bits and pieces of what he said: just a whisper here and there. She caught ' _the potential for lasting_ _damage to the intimate area'_ and something about Anne's wrists bleeding followed by the words ' _seemed to spark in her an inclination to self-harm'._

Mrs. Pye's tone was not the same as it had been when Morgan Ryland advised her. She was no longer indignant, but worried.

Josie wanted to storm downstairs and tell her mother that it was a lie, every bit of it. She knew there was no attack, Billy would never do such a thing. Josie believed with every ounce of her being that Anne had tempted Billy into prurient interests. She felt angry with Billy for agreeing to join Anne in her impurity, but she would forgive him. She knew he regretted letting himself be corrupted. This was Anne's fault, not his. Billy was the real victim.

* * *

After Dr. Carter left, Mrs. Pye called Josie downstairs.

"Josie," she said, sounding very serious. "When you came home with your news of what that girl- Anne- with what she'd done, were you very sure about the details?"

"Yes," Josie said, her eyes wide and innocent.

"You told me Anne was having a baby with the Blythe boy and they were trying to pass it off as Billy's so they could get money from the Andrews'."

Josie nodded. "That's what happened, Mother."

"Did _Anne_ tell you she was expecting?"

"It all came out. See, we were all outside, by the privy, and there was a lot of-"

"Josie, _was Anne the one who told you?_ "

"Not in so many words," Josie said coolly.

"Did Gilbert?"

"No, but-"

"So neither one of them told you anything about it?"

"Mother-"

" _Who_ told you that Anne and Gilbert were having a baby?"

"Ruby," Josie supplied. It was the first honest thing she'd said.

"Well, how did _Ruby_ know of it?" Mrs. Pye asked, sounding tired of the situation already.

"She overheard Anne and Gilbert talking," Josie said, again being truthful.

"Then maybe I better ask Ruby about it instead of you," Mrs. Pye said, standing up.

"No!" Josie said quickly.

Her mother _couldn't_ talk to Ruby. Ruby hadn't heard Anne say she was _pretending_ Billy had made her have a baby- Ruby had heard Anne say that Billy really _had_ made her have a baby.

"Well, I want to know the truth, Josie! When you came home that day, you said Anne was telling everyone at school. Today you're saying Ruby told you something she overheard. Now I don't want to think you have been telling me falsehoods, but you have, haven't you? You _lied_ to me about where you got the information."

"I…I know, but…Ruby's a very reliable witness, Mother. She heard _everything!_ She heard Anne telling Gilbert that she couldn't wear white because of Billy, and…"

Josie realized she'd said that wrong. "I mean…she couldn't wear white because of _Gilbert_."

"Oh?" Her mother's eyebrows were raised, and Josie felt she was losing the fight.

Mrs. Pye shook her head. "And as for how Billy comes into all of this, I'm confused. I thought he was an innocent bystander here."

"Right," Josie said matter-of-factly. She went on, trying to sound more confident: "The Andrews have more money than the Blythe's, so that's when Anne decided to pretend it was Billy."

"Dr. Carter seems to believe that Billy was a part of this. In fact, he says Billy attacked her."

"I'm telling you, Mother, he didn't! It's all Anne's lies! Anne throws herself at every boy- that's how she and Gilbert are having a baby!"

"Well, what am I to believe, Josie? First you tell me one thing, and then another."

"But she told Ruby-"

"She _told_ Ruby? You _just_ said that Ruby _overheard_ them," Mrs. Pye said, frowning.

" _Mother_ …"

" _Josie_. There are serious accusations all around, and I'd hate to think I told the Andrews something that wasn't true."

Josie said slowly, "She must have lied to Dr. Carter, too. An attack! That's what she's saying now? Well…that's what she wants people to think."

"Morgan Ryland came by earlier and he thought the same thing."

"I know. I mean…Mother, she's trying _desperately_ to get people to believe her lies!"

"Dr. Carter told me Anne was never expecting a baby at all."

"…She's not?"

"No, she isn't. So, why, Josie, would she cling to such a story, if there's no need of it? She hasn't anything to use to blackmail the Andrews."

"Well, she can't go back on her story _now_ , can she?" Josie responded quickly.

"I'm not saying Anne's story isn't _questionable_ , but _you're_ not in the clear, either, young lady! You claimed Anne was spreading this story around, and you knew perfectly well _she_ hadn't told anyone!"

Josie had nothing to say to that.

Mrs. Pye looked troubled. "And…after hearing two _professionals_ say that Anne was attacked by Billy, well…"

"Did Dr. Carter actually examine her? Did he _see_ any sign of trauma?" Josie demanded suddenly, trying to move the conversation back toward Anne being a liar.

Her mother looked taken aback by her outburst. "Well, no, but her wrist-"

"A hurt wrist doesn't mean she was violated!" Josie said incredulously.

"Why would Dr. Carter be discussing pregnancy with Miss Cuthbert?" Mrs. Pye snapped at her.

"Because he believes her lies!" Josie shouted. "If she isn't having a baby then it's just plain luck, because we all know she and Gilbert are doing nasty things together and they're dragging poor Billy's name through the mud!"

Mrs. Pye held her hand up, looking as if she had a headache. "I don't appreciate you taking that tone with me, young lady. If you've told everyone that Anne was having a baby with Gilbert- and it sounds to _me_ like Gilbert had nothing to do with it- then you owe Gilbert an apology!"

Josie didn't say anything.

"What difference does it make how any of it happened, Mother?" she pleaded. "The only thing that matters is that that horrible girl brought her wicked ways into our town and now everyone is suffering for it!"

Mrs. Pye said, "I won't argue with that, but I can't see why _you_ have such an interest in confusing the situation further."

Josie bit her lip.

"It's all too convoluted!" Mrs. Pye shook her head and sighed. "I'm unhappy with you, Josie. I told a lot of people that _my_ _daughter_ said Anne was spreading rumors at school! And she wasn't spreading any rumors at all, was she? Do you realize what kind of position you put me in? After what _you_ told me, I felt it was my duty to go tell the Andrews that Anne was blaming a baby on their son. …I told a _lot_ of people that!"

"And you were right to, Mother, everyone should be warned about her!"

Josie was about to make a new argument when her mother interrupted her thoughts.

"I feel we're talking in circles here," she said. "Enough about Anne! I'm concerned about you spending any time with Billy Andrews. Not that you ought to spend time with a boy alone, of course, but you're getting older now and when one has a daughter approaching a certain age- especially a daughter as pretty and as well liked as you are, one can't help but think about her prospects. If Billy ever had any intention of courting you, I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable with it anymore. I can't imagine that he would _do_ such a thing as attack a girl in that manner, but Dr. Carter and Morgan Ryland both holding such a firm belief that Billy's capable of such a thing, well…it gives me _pause_."

"They're wrong, Billy's a nice boy," Josie defended. "You shouldn't hold all this mess against him. It isn't _his_ fault that Anne's a…a trollop."

"Josie!" Mrs. Pye exclaimed. "Where did you hear such language?"

"From _you_ , Mother! I heard you call her that- and you were right!"

 _She threw herself at Billy-_ _ **my**_ _Billy!_

 _He never would have done anything with that nasty girl, if she wasn't so conniving!_

* * *

"Why did you think Josie would spread rumors for us?" Jane whispered nervously as she stood on the Pye's front porch in the early evening hours.

"Because she spread them before!" Diana whispered urgently.

"Yes, but those were _against_ us!" Jane whispered back. "Oh, Diana, I don't know…"

The Pyes front door opened, and Josie stood before them.

"What do _you_ want?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. Both girls were holding lumpy bundles in front of them.

"Can we come in?" Jane asked. "We really need to talk to you."

Josie crossed her arms. But then she sighed and said, "Fine."

Diana and Jane stepped into the house, wondering if Josie would listen to anything they had to say.

"Come up to my room," Josie told them. "What are you carrying?"

"Just some things we wanted to show you."

Once in Josie's room, Diana and Jane opened their bundles right away.

"What _is_ that?" Josie exclaimed, her nose crinkling up. "Ew! Don't let it touch my bed!"

"This," Jane said, holding up the bloody shirt, "Is Billy's."

Josie looked confused. "What?"

"This is what he was wearing when he attacked Anne."

"He never attacked her, _she_ threw herself at _him_. You're lying."

"She's not lying," Diana said. "Josie, why would Jane be defending Anne over _her own brother?_ Answer that."

Josie looked distrustful. "I don't know. But…Billy couldn't have done anything like that."

Diana picked up what she had been carrying. "These are Anne's. Gilbert got them from her. She almost didn't let Gilbert have them, but at the last minute she changed her mind."

Josie looked at the stockings in Diana's hand. She saw the rips where Anne's leg had been angrily grabbed, and she saw where five fingernails had scraped down the inside of Anne's thigh.

"Anne _could_ have done that herself," she said hesitantly.

"And her petticoat, too?" Diana asked. "Maybe she ripped it herself. She doesn't have very many things to wear, does she? It makes perfect sense that she'd ruin what little she does have."

Josie didn't say anything.

Jane got closer to Josie. "See how the buttons are missing from Billy's shirt?"

"…Yeah."

"They're missing because Anne tore at his shirt. Gilbert has the buttons."

Josie's face was pink.

"Her clothes are ripped because _he_ ripped them and his shirt is bloody because she was trying to defend herself."

"I don't believe you. And I want you to leave."

Jane and Diana slowly got up to go.

Diana turned back at the door, saying, "Anne almost didn't give us these things to show you. She was embarrassed. Do you know why she finally decided Gilbert could take them?"

Josie didn't respond.

Diana went on, "It was because she wanted to _warn_ you, Josie. She was worried about you. Billy did this to her in anger, and maybe he won't do anything like that to you because he likes you. But the fact that he's capable of this _at all_ …Anne said she didn't want _you_ to get hurt, too."

Josie didn't answer. Finally she crossed her arms and said, "Go."

* * *

"That didn't go very well, did it?" Diana sighed as they walked back to her house.

Jane was discouraged. "I thought for _sure_ when Josie saw these, she'd believe the truth."

"Me too," Diana said, shaking her head. "But remember, we still have Morgan Ryland and Dr. Carter! Hopefully at least one of them can do _something_. Did Dr. Carter seem concerned at all when you talked to him?"

"Oh, yes," Jane said eagerly. "He did! He said he was troubled over how difficult it's been for Anne to cope. He doesn't know what to do for her, but he worried about Josie ending up the same way. He said he'd talk to Josie's mother about her safety."

"That's good to hear," Diana breathed.

"Isn't it? He hadn't told anyone _anything_ about Anne- for her own privacy- but when I showed him Billy's shirt, all nasty with dried blood and how Anne had torn the buttons off- well, it kind of gave him a jolt. He decided really quickly that it was enough reason to go ahead and tell Mrs. Pye the details. I wonder if he's come yet?"

"Morgan Ryland seemed worried about Josie, too," Diana told her. "Although he had to leave this afternoon, so I don't know if he's done anything or not."

"I hope he did something before he left," Jane said softly, her face lined with worry.

Diana said confidently, "When I told Morgan that I knew a girl Billy was interested in, he said right away that he felt a moral duty to warn her parents in case she could become a victim too."

"Oh, Diana, _something_ must happen. We've _got_ to get Josie to believe it- and her parents- and _everyone_."

* * *

Jane and Diana met Gilbert after school the next day. Jane had brought Anne's petticoat and stockings in a cloth bag for him to take back to Anne. They gave him a report of what had happened at Josie's house.

"But you think Dr. Carter and Morgan Ryland were going to do something, too?" he asked.

"Yes," Jane answered. "I hope they did."

" _I_ think we need to work on Josie more," Diana said. "Maybe we can think of something else that could convince her. Maybe if we can get her to come talk to Anne-"

"No," Gilbert said immediately. "No, the last thing Anne needs is to have to face Josie. What if she says something to upset her?"

They were quiet a moment.

"Our meeting with Josie…Gilbert, there was this really short little moment where it seemed like Josie _might_ be wavering. …But then she just got mad at us."

"She doesn't _want_ to believe the truth," Gilbert realized. "She likes him; it's easier for her to ignore it so she can keep on liking him."

"You know, I don't think Josie going over to Green Gables is a bad idea," Diana said slowly. "But she doesn't need to talk to Anne. She needs to talk to Billy."

"Billy at Green Gables?" Jane said. "Diana…"

"I have an idea."

They talked a long time, working everything out, until at last it all seemed settled.

"That will _have_ to convince her," Jane breathed. "It's _got_ to."


	214. If Billy Could Go Back

Billy had already finished his school work when Jane got home, but their parents were out and Prissy was still working with their tutor, so Jane had time with Billy alone.

"Billy," she began. "Will you help me with my homework?"

Billy looked surprised. "Why do you want _my_ help?"

"You did this last year, didn't you?" She showed him her book.

"Yeah…"

"Then can you help me? Please?"

"Well, all right," he said. "Jack's coming over, though, so I'm not helping you with the whole thing."

"Oh, he is? That's nice."

When he didn't say anything in response, Jane asked, "Don't you wish you could still go to school?"

"I don't care," Billy said, shrugging.

" I know you don't care about _school_ school. But just getting to be with your friends. …That's the best part of school."

"I guess," he said, but Jane could tell he hated being cooped up at home.

"Well, it's nice your friends come over, anyway. How are things with Miss Winston? Prissy really likes her."

"I don't."

"Why not?" Jane asked, already knowing the answer- a student couldn't goof off and pretend to be working, if there were only two students there.

"She thinks she knows everything," Billy said.

"Does she know what you did?" Jane asked, surprised.

"I didn't do anything," Billy said, sounding mad.

Jane sighed, "Billy, stop saying that."

Billy moved on. "Of course she doesn't know- why would we tell her? Anyway, that's not what I meant. I meant she thinks she knows everything about school stuff."

"Well, she _is_ a teacher. She even has two degrees."

"And she never lets you forget it," he complained. "What's your stupid assignment, anyway?"

"I have to do all the even-numbered problems."

"Teachers always do that so you can't copy the answers out of the back of the book," he said, irritated.

"I wouldn't, anyway," Jane told him. "How can you learn them if you just copy the answers?"

Billy was already annoyed with his sister. He pointed to problem two. "You have to cross multiply on that. That's what you're doing wrong. You were multiplying straight across, but the denominator isn't the same."

Jane sighed. "I don't like fractions."

"Why don't you pretend it's for cooking? That takes fractions, and everything always comes out good when you cook," Billy suggested.

"I do like cooking," she said. "I like cooking a _lot_. Maybe that will help."

Jane was so surprised at the compliment that she did not tell him that he should have said 'well' instead of 'good'.

After he gave her a small amount of help and a compliment, she felt a little guilty for striving to get him to leave town, but she remembered that it was all for a good purpose.

 _I'm not being devious_ , she told herself _. It's better for him, too_.

She worked on a couple more problems and then said carefully, "You know, Billy, I wonder if maybe you could come back to school."

"I can't," he said. "Because of Fido."

Jane ignored the word Fido and said, "Well, she hasn't been to school in a while. Maybe she doesn't want to come anymore? And if she doesn't, then why shouldn't you come back?"

He didn't say anything.

Jane nudged him a bit: "You'd be with your friends again, and everything would be like it was before."

He shrugged.

Jane pressed on, "You could sit in the back row and mess around and there'd be no Miss Winston to make you pay attention."

She was afraid she was pushing too much and he'd suspect something, so she put her head down and kept working on her math problems.

At least she'd put the idea in his head.

Jane was glad that when Jack came, he stayed for dinner, and spent the majority of dinner time regaling their family with news of Billy's other friends and things happening at school.

Jane didn't say much at dinner- she never did anymore, since her parents were very cold toward her these days- but she smiled to herself thinking that all the news of school would make Billy interested in going back.

After dinner, Jane cleared the table and began the dishes. She'd been trying to pick up more around the house in an attempt to earn back some of her parent's affections. Her mother left her to it, and sat in the parlor sewing.

Later, after Jack had gone, Billy seemed down. He sat in the parlor staring out the window, doing nothing.

Jane finished drying the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. Then she began to clean the sideboard. She decided not to stop, and continued her cleaning into the parlor.

"Don't bother with that," Mrs. Andrews said tiredly when she saw Jane's efforts. Speaking of their housekeeper, Mrs. Andrews said, "Marta can take care of it."

Jane bit her lip. She sat down on the satin ottoman and picked her needlepoint up from the basket where she'd left it. She didn't work on it, though, she just sat, nervously fiddling with it while trying to decide what to say. She hardly ever spent any time in the parlor with her family; feeling so unwanted now, she spent a lot more time alone in her room. But tonight she had to cope with being treated coldly, because she needed to manipulate conversation between her parents and Billy. She wasn't sure how to lead in to what she was attempting to do, but she didn't have to. After a moment, Billy said glumly, "I wish I could go back to school."

Mrs. Andrews looked up in surprise, but then her expression changed and she said quietly, "I do, too. But you can't. Let that be a life lesson to you: actions have consequences."

Mr. Andrews looked annoyed. "Must you criticize him _constantly_ for this? He made a mistake. Don't hold it over his head forever."

"I'm not," Mrs. Andrews said tightly. "But he must accept the results of what he's done."

This made Mr. Andrews angry. "Really, you can hardly blame him for it, he was only trying to defend his family. And when that girl put herself out as such a-"

"Dear," Mrs. Andrews cut in icily, "The children are present."

There was a stony silence.

Billy grumbled, "It's not fair _I_ had to leave school. _She_ should have left. No one wants her there anyway. And what does she need _school_ for, she's never going to amount to anything more than some fool's ugly wife."

Neither of their parents said anything to that, and it made Jane angry. But she couldn't make an outburst. Instead she said, "That's probably all she's aiming for in life, anyway. I'm not sure she'll ever come back to school…"

That caught both her parent's attention.

"What do you mean, if she'll ever come back to school?" her mother asked. "I thought when we took Billy out, she went back."

"She did…for a little while. Then she stopped."

"But the whole _purpose_ of taking Billy _out_ was so that Anne could go," her father said. "Why would the Cuthbert's insist on us withdrawing Billy if they weren't even going to have her stay in school?"

Jane shrugged. Then she decided to be at least a little bit truthful and say, "They _tried_ to have her go back. But I don't think she can handle working on things now…she's too sad about what Billy did to her."

"Well if Anne doesn't _want_ to go to school, then surely Billy can go back!" was her father's only response to that.

Jane found herself hating her father for just a moment, but she stayed level headed and began her lie as planned: "Maybe Billy _can_ go back! The other day when I visited Anne, she mentioned she isn't planning to go to Queens anymore. She wanted to be a teacher, and she thinks that can't happen now. ' _Why bother'_ , she said. Anyway, she wanted to be a teacher because she knew she'd have to provide for herself, but she doesn't have to anymore, because _you_ gave her money to live on. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't continue her schooling at all. She doesn't really _need_ to…"

Seeing her mother's hopeful expression, she then shrugged and said, "Of course, they haven't actually decided to _withdraw_ her from school, and who knows if they will? They can always just take it day by day, and see how things go…"

"I'd love to be able to put Billy in school and have things go back to _normal_ …" Then Mrs. Andrews sighed. "We'd have to talk to the Cuthberts first, I suppose? To see whether they intend to withdraw her _permanently_. It sounds as if they might, but…" She looked hesitant.

"Would you like _me_ to go ask them if they're going to make it permanent?" Jane spoke up helpfully. "I know you don't like me going over there, but _I'm_ the only one of us they won't be _rude_ to, you know. They _like_ me."

"Of course they like you," her mother answered coolly. "You chose them over us."

" _Mother_ …" Jane was sad. She found herself hoping that someday her parents would tell her they loved her again- they hadn't in such a long time- but she knew that she was about to make her home life even worse. She prepared another lie: "Mother, I'm sorry. If I could take it back, I would! Would you let me try to start making things _right_ again? I can ask them about the withdrawal, so _you_ don't have to. Wouldn't that help at all?

"It _would_ help," her mother said. "Since I'd be positively _ill_ at the thought of having to set foot in their home! It's too humiliating, what Billy's done..."

"Don't be," her father interrupted. "Billy's done nothing. It's Anne who's caused trouble."

"Harmon, let's be honest, if only to each other!" Mrs. Andrews argued. "You _know_ Billy acted terribly. Even _criminally_." She shuddered at the word. "Anyway, I _dread_ the thought of being face-to-face with them; for them to look at _me_ and know _I_ raised a son who would do a thing like that…why, I'm so ashamed I could hardly look them in the eye!"

"But at least it's _only_ them who know," Mr. Andrews put in. "The rumors that are going around are favorable to us, anyway. No one in town knows what really happened; they still think Anne and Gilbert are blaming a baby on Billy. According to anyone who asks, Billy's innocent in all this. As it should be."

"That's my saving grace," her mother sighed. "If people in _town_ knew what _we_ knew…I don't see that there would ever be a way to live it down. I feel we'd all have to go into hiding, or _move!"_

Jane bit her lip. She'd thought of her parents sending Billy away. She'd never thought about them _all_ picking up and moving away from Avonlea. She felt troubled, but she finally took a breath and firmed her resolve. _If that's what happens, then I have to be all right with that._

* * *

The next day Jane went to visit Anne, but as Anne was sleeping despite it being the middle of the afternoon, she instead had a nice conversation with Miss Cuthbert about how to keep the crust on a pot pie moist and flaky, and when she went home she told her mother that Miss Cuthbert had agreed, since Anne didn't want to go to school, that Billy certainly _could_ go back.

...There was just one stipulation.

* * *

"I'm so glad you two offered to help us," Jane told Ruby and Tillie the next day at lunch. "At first we weren't sure what you could do, but now it seems impossible without your help. I really don't think we could pull this off without you."

"I'm nervous," Tillie told them.

"Don't be nervous. All you have to do is be yourself," Jane encouraged. "Did Diana explain everything to you?"

Both girls nodded.


	215. Billy's Letter to Anne

"I'm surprised they'll allow him in, after what happened the day he went to their house," Mrs. Andrews said. "They don't want to bring her over here instead?"

Jane shook her head. "They can't bring her…she won't get out of bed."

"I don't see why I have to apologize," Billy complained. "I didn't even do anything. She's making a big deal out of nothing."

"Yes, you did do something," his mother told him. "And having to make an apology is a small thing, if it means they'll agree to withdraw her so you can go back to school for good!"

"Father always said not to apologize to people because it means you've admitted guilt," Billy said.

Mrs. Andrews smoothed his collar down and handed him his cap. "Well, I don't care what he thinks about that. I care about _you_ going back to _school_."

"I don't see why I can't just go to school _anyway_ ," Billy said. "What's stopping me?"

Mrs. Andrews looked like she was trying very hard to be patient.

She explained, "The Cuthbert's know Anne isn't interested in school anymore. If they're _giving up_ \- if they're on the fence about whether they should go ahead and withdraw her permanently- then we want to facilitate that!"

Seeing Billy's blank expression- he did not know what facilitate meant- she sighed and said: "She wants you to apologize, Billy. Do it nicely, and then they won't keep you from school out of _spite!_ "

"Are you coming with me?" Billy asked. He did not want to go.

"No, no," Mrs. Andrews said, nervously patting her hair. "I don't see any need to subject _myself_ to those people. I would die of embarrassment! No, dear, you'll have to take this on your own."

" _I'll_ go with you, Billy," Jane spoke up helpfully. "They like me, so it'll be easier for you if I go with you."

"Great," Billy muttered.

Billy and Jane walked slowly across the fields.

When they arrived at Green Gables, Billy said, "The buggy's gone. They're not home. Good."

Jane pushed him ahead. "So what if Mr. and Miss Cuthbert aren't home? It's Anne you're supposed to apologize to!"

"Well, if they're not home, _she's_ probably not either. Let's go," Billy urged, glad to find any reason to avoid apologizing.

"Of _course_ she's home, she won't get out of bed, remember? You _should_ remember, it's because of _you!"_

"Well, what if she says I did something to her while they were out?" Billy argued.

"But I'm with you," Jane told him sensibly. "You're not alone in the house with her. Besides, Gilbert's probably here, too."

"Why would he be here if they're not?"

"That's probably _why_ he's here. They can't go anywhere unless Gilbert's here or Mrs. Lynde comes over. They don't leave Anne alone. Not ever. Dr. Carter said she might hurt herself."

"She's loony," Billy said, shaking his head.

Jane ignored that and prodded him along to the house.

Gilbert opened the door for them.

"Hi," he said to Billy.

"Hi," Billy answered.

"Billy wants to apologize to Anne," Jane announced.

"No, I don't," Billy couldn't help saying.

Jane looked back and forth between the two boys. The tension between them was an entity of it's own.

"Yeah. They told me," Gilbert said quietly. But he seemed to have trouble moving to allow Billy into the house.

After a moment, Billy sighed, saying, "Can we get this over with?"

Gilbert finally came out of his dark expression. "Yeah. I didn't know you were coming right now, though. …I don't even know if Anne's awake. I'll go check."

Billy couldn't resist being himself and with a laugh he said, "I hope the Cuthberts' aren't _paying_ you to look after their dog, you're not doing a very good job of it."

Gilbert glared at him. "I was going to ask you in, but you can just wait on the porch." He shut the door in their faces.

Jane shoved Billy in the stomach. "Why did you have to say that? You know what, when we go in there, don't _talk_ ; the last thing she needs is to wake up to the sound of _your_ voice!"

Billy stood on the porch looking angry until Gilbert came back.

When Gilbert returned, he said, "She's waking up. What are you planning to say to her?"

"I have to apologize," Billy said.

"I know, but what are you going to _say?"_ Gilbert asked more forcefully.

"Why do you care? I'm going to say sorry," Billy told him.

"That's all? Just 'sorry'?" Gilbert asked.

Billy shrugged.

"I think you should practice what you're going to say, first. So you don't say the wrong thing and make everything worse," Gilbert told him. "Why don't you write down what you're going to say, like a letter?"

Jane spoke up. "That's a good idea. I've got my school things with me still; I thought after Billy apologizes and goes home, I could help Anne learn what we're doing in math. …Here, Billy, take some paper and use my pen."

Billy didn't make any move until Jane said, "I wonder if you wrote it down, if Anne would even care if you actually _said_ it. Maybe you could _just_ write it like a letter. And she'd read it. You wouldn't have to say one word to her."

Billy's eyes narrowed. "I'm not writing down _anything_. You're just trying to get me to admit to stuff in writing so you can use it against me later."

Gilbert put his hands up. "I'm not keeping the letter. You can take it with you and burn it later. Or rip it up. Put it in the stove. Get rid of it any way you want. We don't want it."

"…But what if I give it to her and she won't give it back?" Billy asked.

"All right, then don't give it to her at all. At least if you've decided what to say beforehand I won't have to worry you're going to say something stupid and make her feel terrible," Gilbert told him.

"Fine," Billy said. "I'm not letting any of you touch it. You'll try to use it against me later."

He took the pen and paper Jane offered him and wrote,

 _Dear Anne,_

 _I'm sorry._

 _Billy_

Gilbert and Jane both stared at him.

"That's _it?_ " Jane asked.

"That's not good enough," Gilbert told him.

Billy started over:

 _Dear Anne,_

 _I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have done it._

 _Billy._

"Come _on_ , Billy."

" _What?"_

Gilbert sighed. "You're the reason she won't get out of bed, and I just think she'd feel better if she thought you really did regret everything you did to her."

Jane took up the cause and tried to convince Billy, "You don't have to be sorry, but can't you _pretend?_ Think of all the time _she_ was pretending you hadn't done anything wrong. All that time you never got in trouble! Now _you_ can pretend for her."

"So what do you want me to say?" Billy asked, annoyed with both of them.

Gilbert responded, "Well, _one_ of the things that upset her- because she told me _everything_ \- was that you left her with torn clothes and she had to figure out how to hide them. _I_ even had to sew her petticoat for her."

Billy laughed at the thought of Gilbert sitting over girl clothes with a needle and thread, sewing like a little housewife.

"It's not funny," Gilbert said. "And the way I see it, you owe her new stuff to replace what _you_ ruined."

"My parents gave her money," Billy told him. "She can buy stuff with that."

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, but you still left her with a problem, didn't you?"

"So what do you _want?"_ Billy asked, ready to be done with this so he could stop thinking about Anne.

Jane took the pen and crossed out Billy's previous letter, telling him, "You should just start over…you didn't begin very well before. And you can start by telling her that you're sorry you ripped her clothes."

After heaving a sigh, Billy wrote,

 _Dear Anne,_

 _I'm sorry I ripped your clothes_

"And left them bloody," Gilbert prodded.

 _and left them bloody_ , Billy added.

"And everything else you did," Gilbert said in a hard voice.

"What, you want me to write it all? You think it's going to make her feel better to hear all the details?"

Jane agreed with Gilbert. "I think it'll make her feel better to know you're sorry for _everything_. You hit her in the head-"

"That was an accident!" Billy argued.

Jane continued, her voice rising over his, "You hit her in the head, and you pushed her and you left her with bruises _and_ you made her bleed. And you made her go for weeks and weeks worrying her whole _life_ would change if she had a _baby_. You have a _lot_ to apologize for!"

Billy looked disgusted, as if the two of them were the problem, instead of himself.

Gilbert didn't answer him, he only met his gaze with a hard stare.

Billy finally wrote, _I'm sorry I hit you, and all that._

"And all that?" Gilbert asked incredulously. "Cross that out! She said she could barely breath and she was terrified. Maybe you need to say something about the way you _attacked_ her."

 _I'm sorry I pushed you on the ground and scared you._

"All right, but you did more than scare her."

"…I don't know how to say it."

"Well then you can think about it until you figure it out," Gilbert said. "We can sit here until you do."

Billy glared at him.

Jane spoke up. "And you have to acknowledge that she didn't want to do anything like that. And that you _knew_ she didn't want to. That's important."

Billy sighed and started writing again.

Then he stopped.

"Well, go on. What are you waiting for?" Gilbert asked, annoyed at the delay.

"I don't remember. What else did I do?"

Gilbert looked at him, appalled. "You don't even remember it all?"

"Um…oh yeah," Billy said, adding a line about Anne's sprained wrist.

"And?"

"And what?"

" _Baby_ ," Gilbert practically forced through his teeth.

Billy thought a moment, and then wrote, _I'm sorry you got all worried about having a baby. But you aren't, so you worried for no reason and it's good it worked out that way since I don't want a baby either and especially not with you._

Gilbert was glad that they were doing this on paper and not in person. Billy's apology was insulting; he barely remembered everything he'd done and he was not the least bit remorseful about any of it.

"Cross that out too," Jane demanded.

"Well, you wanted me to say sorry for making her worry about it!" Billy argued.

"Find a different way to say it," Jane said, struggling to keep from shouting at him.

Billy thought a moment before he wrote.

"Do you have anything else to add?" Gilbert asked icily.

"No," Billy said. "I'm done."

"No, you're not," Jane told him. "You should also tell her you're sorry for not admitting what you did. Things wouldn't have been dragged out so much if you'd been honest."

When Billy finished writing, Gilbert and Jane both thought that the apology he wrote sounded exactly like someone who is being forced to apologize.

They looked at each other.

"You can't read this to Anne. It sounds fake," Jane finally said.

Gilbert agreed. "Start over."

Billy was angry and crunched the paper up in his hand.

"Smooth it out, and start over," Jane said firmly.

He unballed it, really wanting to stomp away.

But he kept writing, with Jane over his shoulder. "Add something nice at the end," she directed him. "Something about how she didn't deserve what happened to her and how it wasn't her fault."

"But it _was_ her fault," Billy argued.

"Billy…" Jane shook her head. "Whatever _you_ think is not the point. The point is for _her_ to think you're _sorry_."

"You _just_ told me I should have been honest, and now you want me to lie," Billy complained. "I'm not sorry! Not _really_. The only reason I wish I hadn't done that to her is everyone else giving me trouble over it! If she'd kept her big mouth shut we'd all be going about our regular lives!"

"Well, if you want to go back to school, then you want the Cuthberts' to be over the whole matter. Pretend to be sorry so you can have what you want! Because it's always about what _you_ want, isn't it?" Jane said, unable to hold back a little bit of the venom she had stored away.

When Billy finally finished his letter, it said,

 _Dear Anne,_

 _I'm sorry I ripped your clothes. And I'm sorry about the blood. I know what I did was wrong. Pushing you on the ground and forcing intimate relations on you. You didn't want to do anything like that, and I knew you didn't. I'm sorry I didn't stop…I'm sorry I did any of it to begin with._

 _I should have admitted what I did right away so nobody would have called you a liar. And I'm sorry I got Josie involved and about her spreading rumors about you and Gilbert._

 _I feel bad you had to go a long time worrying that I made you have a baby. I didn't think about that happening or what it would have meant for you. I did an awful thing and I'm sorry._

 _Also I'm sorry I hurt your arm. I'm glad it's better now._

 _None of it was your fault._

 _Billy_

"Well," Gilbert said, "I know you don't mean a word of it, but at least it _sounded_ as if you do."

Jane agreed. She knew her brother had very little empathy for others, and the kind of feelings that prompted _true_ apologies, Billy didn't seem to _have_. …The sad reality was that this letter probably _was_ the best he could do.

"Well, that's that, then," Gilbert said, standing up. "We saw your writing, now I guess we'll see your acting. Are you ready to go apologize?"


	216. Billy Apologizes

Once in the house, Gilbert shut the front door behind him.

"Wait here," he said quietly, because he wanted to be sure everything was all right before he brought Billy any closer.

After he came back into the parlor where Jane and Billy were waiting, he sighed, looking at them.

"What?" Jane asked.

"She doesn't want to see you," Gilbert told Billy.

"Great," Billy said happily, standing up to go.

"She won't get out of bed, but she doesn't want you coming into her room, either."

"You can't blame her, really," Jane said with a shake of her head.

"Then let's go," Billy shrugged, heading for the door.

"Oh, no, you can still apologize," Gilbert said. "And you're _going_ to. You can…I don't know, do you want to talk to her through the door or do you want me to take your letter in to her?"

Billy looked grumpy. "I'll talk. I don't want any of you taking this paper and using it against me."

"Fine, I don't care what you do, as long as you're sorry," Gilbert said. "Come on, then."

He led Billy through the house and stopped him at the closed bedroom door, giving it a gentle tap. "Billy has something to say to you. He'll just talk through the door, I won't let him in."

Jane poked Billy to get him to start. He cleared his throat, but it was a minute before he started talking.

Gilbert was enjoying how scared Billy sounded. After Anne had been made to feel afraid of Billy, he took some comfort in knowing that Billy could be afraid of Anne, too.

Jane pushed Billy again, and finally he began: "I'm sorry I ripped your clothes. And I'm sorry about the blood. I know what I did was wrong…"

He made it through his entire rehearsed apology, and when he reached the end, he sighed a little before he said, "None of it was your fault."

After Billy finished, Gilbert announced, "All right, you can go now."

Billy looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"You're done, you apologized. You did it. Now leave."

Billy looked like he didn't know what to say. Then he sputtered, "But…but I said I was sorry…"

Gilbert almost laughed. "Billy, what did you think was going to happen- that she was going to come out of there smiling and tell you everything's forgiven and forgotten? We're all just one big happy family now?"

"Well…I apologized."

"Yes, you did. But that doesn't mean she has to forgive you."

"She _should_ ," he said, frowning. "That was a good apology! I worked hard on that apology!"

"And I'm sure she's glad you said it. Maybe someday she'll even forgive you. You never know, stranger things have happened. Goodbye." Gilbert pointed to the door.

Billy didn't move. "That's not fair. If I apologized, then she should say she forgives me. That's how apologies go."

"Maybe she does forgive you. But she certainly isn't under any obligation to tell you that," Jane told him. "When you apologize, you have to be willing to accept whatever they give you- or don't give you."

Billy was angry. But then he shook it off, saying, "I don't care what she thinks of me, anyway I'm going back to school now. That's all this was for."

And he was content to continue on with his day, putting Anne out of his mind.

He looked at Jane. "Are you coming home?"

"No," Jane answered. "I brought my school stuff so I could work with Anne, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah."

The second Billy had stepped out the front door, Gilbert and Jane opened the door to the bedroom where Billy had stood to make his apology.

And sitting on Marilla's bed, waiting for them, were Tillie, Ruby, and Josie.

Josie's face was pinched, angry.

Gilbert felt sorry for her, despite all the trouble she had given Anne.

"Josie?" he asked quietly.

She didn't look at him. She was sitting still as statue.

"I don't believe it," she whispered.

Gilbert took a risk and said, "You do believe it. …You just don't _want_ to believe it."

And then his voice was pleading, and he dropped in front of her. "I know you want to believe that he didn't do this, because then you can go right on _liking_ him. Like nothing's _changed_. But you can't keep your head in the sand; don't make excuses for him. Josie, you don't deserve to end up in a courtship with someone who believes he was justified in violating a girl."

"He…he _said_ he was sorry…" she began hesitantly.

"He doesn't feel as sorry as he sounded," Jane cut in softly. "We tried, Josie- we really gave him the chance to show us if he felt anything for what he'd done to Anne. We reminded him of all the things he'd done to hurt her, and how worried she had been, and how much he'd scared her. We were hoping he'd feel _something_. But he _didn't_ , at least nothing he's willing to admit."

"Well….Billy has an ego sometimes, he doesn't always admit his feelings. Maybe he really _does_ regret what he did," Josie said in a voice that was struggling to sound hopeful.

"Do you _want_ to forgive him?" Jane asked gently. "He's already lied to you a few times now. He told you that he had relations with Anne because she wanted to, because she knew sinful things and had corrupted his innocence. That was a lie. He told you he never attacked her. And that was a lie, too. And then he said he regrets what he did with Anne. That's another lie."

"Even _if_ he regrets it, Josie, how could you ever feel _safe_ with him?" Tillie spoke up, with a shiver. "I couldn't. I'd be afraid. …I _am_ afraid. This is _scary_ …"

Ruby nodded in agreement. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and looking at her, Josie felt suddenly that Ruby was very small, and very young. And then it hit her that she felt this way because none of them- _none_ of them, least of all innocent little Ruby, should have known anything _about_ such matters.

But now they _all_ did. Something had been broken, corrupted, and with a start, Josie realized that she did not blame Anne for bringing about this change, this loss of innocence. She blamed Billy.

As Josie looked around at all of their faces, every pair of eyes concentrated on her, she saw with shame that not one pair was hateful, and the expression on every face was an earnest one of concern for her.

And then the floodgates were open, and almost before she knew it, she had tears streaming down her face.

Josie felt that they all _must_ hate her, but suddenly Diana's arm was around her, and then Ruby's, and finally Tillie's, and they were a united front, stronger together.

Josie shook out of their embrace and sat up taller. Getting ahold of herself, she now felt angry.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to confront him. He's going to get a piece of my mind."

They all looked at each other.

"Josie, maybe you shouldn't approach him. Just-"

" _No!"_ Josie said, tears streaming again down her face, harder than before. She fled the room without another word- all her words were saved for Billy- and Jane jumped up and ran quickly after her. Jane would not let Josie go alone. She did not think her brother would ever harm Josie, but he was angry, and how could any of them know what he was capable of, now?

After Jane rushed out with Josie, Gilbert turned to Tillie and Ruby. "You did _great_ , I don't know what we would have done without you. I don't think Josie would have come over to Green Gables at all unless it was the two of _you_ who asked her. …She's been so angry with Diana, Jane, and I. You two supported Anne too, but…you were more of a neutral party, and we _needed_ that."

"What you really mean is that we were never as strong as you about standing up to Josie," Tillie said dejectedly.

"No," Gilbert told her, although it had been true. "Anyway it's good if you weren't, because it meant she was more likely to listen to _you_ than she was to _us_."

"You know, we didn't even have to use the plan Diana made to convince Josie to come over," Ruby told him. "We were just _honest_ : we told Josie that Billy was going to come talk to Anne and that if she wanted to, she could sit in here and listen to what he had to say."

Gilbert was surprised by this.

Diana explained, "Josie overheard her mother's conversations with Dr. Carter and Morgan Ryland."

"The ones _you_ got her to have," Gilbert said with a smile, giving Diana some recognition for her taking the initiative to get professionals involved.

"Dr. Carter talking about Anne's health and Morgan talking about what would have happened to Billy in court…they were enough to cause some doubt in Josie."

Ruby picked up the story, saying, "I don't think she even wanted to admit to herself that she was doubting him, but…when we asked her to come over, she was quiet for a long time, and then she said ' _all right'_. That's all she said, just _all right_. She didn't say a word the whole walk over."

"She looked like she was thinking a lot, though," Tillie told them.

Outside, Josie caught up to Billy before long, and Jane was panting, trying to keep up.

"Billy!" Josie screamed. The wind nearly carried away her words, but he turned, startled to hear his name.

He had no idea why Josie was here or why she was upset with him.

Her face was pink and she was shaking with both anger and humiliation. "You lied to me! You had me believing she seduced you!"

"What?" Billy asked, confused.

"I was there! I heard _everything!"_ Josie screamed. "Every nasty thing you did to her! You lied to me!"

" _Josie_ ," he said, trying to reach out to her.

But Josie jerked her arm away from him. "Don't touch me!"

Whatever else she thought she would say to him, she didn't. Once she was _with_ him, she realized she only wanted to be _away_ from him, and before Billy could say another word, she was gone, running, through the green fields.

He stared after her, wounded.

When Josie was out of sight, Billy turned back to Jane. She was panting; she had finally caught up, but she was left winded.

"You knew. You knew she was in the house."

Jane didn't answer, catching her breath.

"How could you _do_ this to me?" he said, on the verge of angry tears. "Haven't you done _enough?"_

And Jane, who felt she was in the right and would not regret her decision, found herself with tears in her own eyes. She did not want to hurt her brother, no matter how much he had hurt her.

"You had me apologizing through the door and Anne wasn't even in her room, was she?"

Jane whispered, "That wasn't even Anne's room."


	217. Josie Tells The Truth

Josie didn't stop running until she reached her front door. She threw herself into it, still crying, and bumped right into her mother.

Her mother pulled her away from her and looked her up and down. "My darling girl, what's happened to you?"

She saw Josie's wet cheeks and runny nose. Her stockings had streaks of dirt on them and her bow had fallen out of her hair, dangling limply from a loose curl.

Josie was trying to talk, but nothing was coming out.

"Come here, pet," her mother crooned. "Now what's got my pretty girl looking so...untidy?"

" _Billy_ -" Josie began, but broke off, unable to continue.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Pye breathed, her hand flying to her heart. "Dr. Carter…Morgan Ryland…I wasn't sure whether we should _believe_ it, but…Josie…has _he_ …"

Josie shook her head. "No. He didn't do anything to _me_. It's what _I've_ done!"

"What _you've_ done? What do you mean?"

Josie took a few big gasps of air and then everything spilled out. "Oh, _Mother!_ I was _so_ wrong! When you asked me all those questions, I _lied_ to you! I lied about everything!"

"What exactly, dear? There's been too much confusion."

Josie sat on the sofa with her mother, and told her the whole story, from the beginning- from Ruby following Anne and Gilbert into the woods and listening as they discussed what to do about the baby Billy had given Anne, and ending with Josie accepting Billy's lie that he'd just fallen into Anne's wicked ways and had never meant to get taken in by her.

"I've been protecting Billy all this time! I protected him because I _liked_ him and I wanted him to like _me_. I just…I just wanted to _believe_ him! What an awful thing I've done!"

Mrs. Pye hugged her close, and Josie could feel her mother shaking.

"Mother, I'll never spread rumors again!" Josie cried.

"Nor will I," Mrs. Pye said softly. When she pulled away, the gravity of the situation showed in her face and in her voice. She said to Josie, "We must right our wrong."

And she told Josie to go wash her face and straighten up her appearance, because they'd have to go out for the evening. They had several calls to make.

By the time night fell, each of the families that had been told the rumor by either Mrs. Pye or Josie herself, had been visited, humbly apologized to, and told the truth of what Josie had been hiding.


	218. Gilbert and Anne

When Josie had run away from Green Gables and Jane had followed, there had been a long silence in the room. Tillie, Ruby, Diana, and Gilbert had said regretful goodbyes to each other. None of them wanted to leave.

Diana had to keep a close eye on the time, since she wasn't allowed to visit Anne at all and needed to return home before her mother did, and Tillie and Ruby had each told their parents they were going to be at each other's houses, so they needed to be home before either family sent for the others.

Gilbert stayed, because he had to: he was looking after Anne while the Cuthberts were out. They hated to ask him, but Mrs. Lynde was away visiting one of her children, who had a new baby, and they could not leave Anne alone. Jerry was here, but he was working, and he did not know what happened to Anne. He believed she was cooped up in the house with some long illness, and no one said anything to correct him.

Gilbert didn't mind; he wanted to be with Anne whether they needed him or not, so he was happy to stay and help. Though there wasn't much to do, really. She didn't need anything, and she had no interest in doing anything. She slept too much, and when she was awake, she hardly spoke. He had nothing to do but hang around the house, trying to be useful.

His father had been doing so much better lately, and Gilbert wished Anne would come over to his house, because he felt sure that being with his father would give her the magic she needed to come back to life. But she appeared listless when Gilbert suggested it the first time, and the second time she snapped at him. He did not ask her again. He knew she was not going to get out of bed.

As the afternoon was fading, Gilbert decided he would go ahead and cook supper for Anne. The Cuthberts' had promised to be back before evening, knowing that he needed to be home to get supper for his dad, so he could just wait and let them handle it, but he thought he might try and see if he could get her to eat.

He went up to see if she was awake and ask her what she'd like for dinner, though he didn't expect her to have a preference. He softly opened the door. "Anne?" he called out.

She did not answer. He still felt like he shouldn't be in her room, but as Marilla had said weeks ago, _We've strayed beyond what is reasonable._ So he came in.

She was sitting up in bed, looking out the window.

Gilbert knew they all had taken a big risk in assuming Anne would stay asleep all afternoon and miss Billy's visit. "How long have you been awake?" he asked a bit fearfully, hoping she hadn't heard anything from when Billy had been so close by.

"A while," she answered, not looking at him.

He looked over to where her gaze was. There was a branch hitting the window pane.

"Is that bothering you?" he asked.

She shook her head. She just kept staring at it.

"Well, hey, I wanted to know what you felt like eating," Gilbert asked.

"Scrambled eggs," she said absently.

It was a sad state of affairs that Gilbert was so overjoyed to be given an answer, and an answer that implied Anne might possibly be interested in eating.

"Coming right up," he said with a cheerful smile.

He didn't waste any time getting back downstairs and putting a pan on the stove. He hoped Anne wouldn't change her mind before he finished.

He got back upstairs as soon as he could, with a plate and a silent prayer that she'd eat.

He pulled her chair over to the bed so he could sit beside her.

She did not thank him, but she began to eat, and that was all the thanks he needed.

"What do you want to do after you eat?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"I don't know," she told him sadly.

"You could do school. I can help you," he said.

She shrugged. "I don't think school is so important anymore."

That alarmed Gilbert. It was one thing for her not to want to go because of rumors and stares. It was quite another for her not to go because she did not have an interest in learning.

"But you _like_ school. You're going to Queens to be a teacher, remember? You don't have to fall behind just because you're not going right now."

"I don't know."

Gilbert did not want to push too hard and make her snap; the only times she'd responded anything other than listlessly was when she'd yelled at him.

He didn't say anything else; he'd ask her more when she was done. She was eating, and he didn't want to keep her talking in case that would stop her from eating.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?" he asked when she had eaten all she was going to eat. "Maybe read? I could read, if you want."

"Well…maybe."

"I brought over a book I thought you'd like. Should I get it?"

"No."

There was a silence again.

Then Gilbert had an idea. "Right before you left, remember how we were doing units on other countries? And we started with the U.S. because it's right underneath us?"

"Yeah."

"And you said you wanted to memorize all the states in alphabetical order and be able to spell all of them? Mr. Phillips didn't even assign that- you just thought it would be fun to see if you could do it."

"Yeah," she said again.

"Do you think you could still do it?"

She shrugged.

"Would you try?"

She let go of a long breath, as if it was exhausting, and Gilbert did not think she would make an attempt.

But after a moment, she said: "Alabama. A-L-A-B-A-M-A."

She paused, then continued: "Arkansas. A-R-K-A-N-S-A-S."

Then she stopped, thinking.

"Delaware," she said hesitantly.

Gilbert did not tell her that he thought she had skipped something.

But after a moment, Anne shook her head, saying sadly, "I don't remember how to spell it. And I don't remember any more after it, either."

Gilbert wished he hadn't asked, because maybe it was upsetting; realizing she had forgotten what she once knew. But he had only brought it up with the hope that it might prompt some sort of pride in her knowledge.

"Well, hey, it's great you remembered how to spell Arkansas. That's a tricky one, since the 's' is pronounced like a 'w'. That was good, Anne."

His praise seemed to fall flat, and he sighed. He glanced around the room. When he saw her needlepoint laying on her dresser, he held it up for her to see. "Remember how excited you were to start this, because it was going to be a quote from Jane Eyre?"

He looked at it. "When you showed it to me before, all it said was ' _I ha'_. There's a lot more done, now. You must have been working on it."

"I haven't for a while."

Gilbert read what the needlepoint now said. "Look, you've finished almost a whole line. _I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found'._ What's the next word, Anne?"

"You," she said softly.

His eyes changed, and he came over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He picked up her hands and held them. He didn't say anything.

She looked down at his hands for a moment and then her eyes filled with tears. "I feel so sad all the time," she whispered.

"I know," he said, squeezing her hands.

"I hate that Billy did this."

"I know."

"And I don't even mean what he did to me originally. I mean now- _right_ now. Me, here, sitting in bed, not caring about a thing. …I don't _want_ to feel this way. I don't want to _be_ this way."

"Do you think you could get up?" he asked gently.

She shook her head.

"I don't mean out of your room, not if you don't want to. I thought maybe you could sit by your window. You were looking out of it before, when I first came in. Maybe you'd like to sit right by it so you can see more than just a little bit of sky. You could see everything- the fields and the streams, the woods…" he trailed off, berating himself for his words. Billy had even destroyed what she saw outside her own bedroom window.

She shook her head.

Then she put her face in her hands. She was not crying, she was just frustrated and overwhelmed with her own feelings.

"Has Dr. Carter stopped by recently?" he asked.

"He comes every few days."

"What has he said?"

"He doesn't know what to do."

"You know, I've read that there are herbs and things that help with moods. I'll see if I can find a book, there are advertisements sometimes in the paper. I could send away for something. And then we could see if that makes anything better."

"Marilla's using something. I don't remember what. Dr. Carter told her to put it in my tea. But I don't feel any different."

He nodded slowly.

He didn't know what to say, and squeezed her hands again, wishing he could pour some of his own energy into her. Her hands felt rough and dry, and he could feel the places on her wrists that she had hurt herself. He was too sad for words, but tried to keep positive, knowing that she had too much sadness of her own to be burdened with his.

"I guess maybe I could try to make the 'you'."

He did not understand her for a split second until he realized she meant the next word on her needlepoint.

She did not sound good, but he was excited she was even mentioning trying to do something. He jumped up to get it and put it in front of her.

She took it, but did not move to do anything with it.

"Where's the rest of it?" he asked.

"The rest?"

"The thread. The needles, the scissors…"

"I don't know."

"How have you been doing it, then?"

"I hardly ever work on it anymore. But when I do, Marilla brings them to me."

"You don't know where she keeps them, though?"

Anne shook her head. Then she added with a sigh, "She won't tell me where they are. And she stays in here while I work on it."

 _Oh_.

"All right," he said, his cheerfulness sounding forced. "Well, I can go try to find them. And when I do, I'll keep you company while you work."

 _Keep you company while you work_ , Anne thought. Gilbert chose such lovely words for 'watch the way you use them'…

Gilbert went downstairs and began looking around. He could not find any scissors or needles, and eventually decided the Cuthbert's had locked them away somewhere, probably in one of their bedrooms. He went back upstairs, empty-handed.

"I don't see them," he told her. But Anne was no longer sitting up. She was lying down in her bed, facing away from him.

"Anne?" he asked, coming closer.

"What?" came a faint reply.

"Are you all right?"

 _Ridiculous question_ , he thought.

He came closer and sat on the edge of the bed.

He waited a moment, but she did not speak, and finally he said, "I didn't see any scissors or needles anywhere, but would you like me to read to you?"

She did not answer.

He hadn't brought his book upstairs, so he looked to see what _she_ had, not wanting to leave her again to go downstairs.

He spotted _Alice_ on the dresser.

"How 'bout Alice? I suppose you've probably finished it by now, but we could read it again. …I bet Mr. Cuthbert was so happy to give this to you. He loves you so much."

She did not respond. He sat down beside her again, the book in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat when he opened it. The entire book was filled with notes in the margins, quotes in the inside covers, and various things throughout, circled and underlined. Just like his mother and father had done when they passed books back and forth during their courting days.

He traced the words she'd written in large, loopy letters on the inside cover:

'… _but when you have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?'_

He smiled at that.

He began moving through the pages, looking at her notes- some funny, some thoughtful.

He thought about how unsettled Anne was by her constantly swirling emotions when he saw circled, ' _I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'_

Gilbert paused again when he read:

' _I_ _ **can't**_ _explain myself, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, 'because I'm_ _ **not**_ _myself, you see.'_

He thought about what that meant to her for a moment. …She kept saying no one would understand her.

He turned a few pages and came to:

 _She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly._

Anne had drawn teardrops underneath 'she was shrinking rapidly'.

"Anne," he said suddenly, desperately. "Anne, are you still with me? Are you awake? Anne?"

She did not answer in words, but moved her head just a little.

He gazed sadly at her lovely carrot hair, loose and cascading over her shoulders in a coppery waterfall. He reached out, his hand hovering above her shoulder, unsure about touching her. He finally rested it on her arm, and then let his hand fall to her face.

But he had made the right choice, because once she felt his palm at her cheek, she whispered softly, "I love you..."

When he heard Mr. and Miss Cuthbert coming in- unlocking the door as they must- he told Anne he'd go downstairs and greet them, and she asked hoarsely, "Don't go without saying goodbye"

"Of course not," he told her.

He smiled at the Cuthberts as he came down the stairs.

"She all right?" Matthew asked, first thing.

Gilbert didn't answer affirmatively, but simply said, "No change."

"Thank you for staying with her," Marilla said gratefully. "I hated that we had to go out."

Gilbert shook his head. "I'm happy to stay."

"There weren't any problems?" Marilla asked, worried.

"No. She slept for most of the afternoon, and we talked. She ate a plate of scrambled eggs about- oh, not quite an hour ago. She finished the whole plate."

"That's a rare blessing," Marilla said, more to herself than to him.

"Well, we won't keep you, Gilbert," she said, more briskly this time. "We know you must get home to your father. Thank you for being here for us."

"Anytime, ma'am. I'll just run up and say goodbye to her, if that's all right."

"Of course," Marilla nodded.

When he got upstairs, Anne had sat up in bed again. But she did not look any different than before, and was once again staring at the branch against her windowpane.

"Anne? I'm going to go."

"All right," she said.

But as he turned to leave, she suddenly asked:

"Why did you let Billy in earlier?"

Gilbert was stopped dead in his tracks.

"You knew about that?"

"I woke up when I heard his voice. I thought it was in my dream. But it wasn't. It was real. He was right here in our house."

"Oh, Anne," he said, crumbling. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you heard any of that. I didn't want you to, really. Jane and Diana and I, we tried to be so quiet…"

"Why did you let him in?"

"We…we wanted to get him to come in and apologize to you, and Ruby and Tillie invited Josie over to listen to the apology. They were behind Marilla's door. Josie heard him- so now she knows that it was all him, and none of it was your fault."

Anne didn't speak.

"She's very upset with him, now. She knows it wasn't your fault. She's on your side."

"That's different," Anne commented.

"Things _will_ be different," he told her. "They'll be a lot different. It's going to get better now."

"But you let him in."

Gilbert hesitated. "I know. We were all _with_ him, Billy- Ruby and Tillie, Josie, Jane, Diana and I- you were never in any danger. I promise. We wouldn't have let him hurt you…he doesn't even know where your room is."

She didn't say anything.

Gilbert worried she was angry- and he fully expected her to be- but the fact that she was speaking to him in such a dull, empty voice worried him even more. It was as if she had already used up her quota for the day and had nothing left in her.

"He apologized?" she finally asked.

Gilbert could not tell what she thought about this.

"Yes," he finally said. He was afraid to say any more because he did not know if Anne would be upset to know that in actuality Billy felt absolutely no remorse for how he'd hurt her.

"Oh," she said, and then she lay down and pulled the covers up.

"Anne, I…I don't know what to say. We just had to get the rumors to stop. And we're trying to see if we can get Billy to leave."

"He already left," Anne told him softly.

"No. Not school. Town," Gilbert explained. "If it works- and we think it will- you'll never have to see him. You'll be able to go out and do things and nothing will stop you. …Everything's going to get better now."

Anne nodded. Maybe that would make everything better. She began to feel hopeful.

But then she pushed her face into her pillow and tuned Gilbert out. She wanted to be hopeful, but hope scared her even more than despair did. Despair, she was accustomed to- it was familiar, almost a part of her being, always there.

Hope could not be trusted.


	219. Townsfolk

Billy and Jane stared at each other.

"I hate you," Billy said, practically spitting the words out.

Then he started to cry.

Jane didn't know what to do. But she didn't have to think of anything to say, because Billy turned and stomped off, heading for the woods.

Jane watched after him, wondering if she should follow.

 _No. I'll give him time to blow off steam. He'll calm down._

She thought about going back to Green Gables, but then shook her head and turned for home. The others were with Anne; _they'd_ make sure she was all right. Jane wanted to go home and see if her mother would give her a hug.

Once Billy came home with his story of what she'd done, she wouldn't get any more.

* * *

When Jane returned to her house, she couldn't decide if she was nervous or relieved that Billy wasn't there.

Jane became very needy at home, hanging onto her mother and trying to soak up all the affection she could, though there wasn't much to be had.

As the evening went on, her parents began to wonder where Billy was, and asked Jane if she'd seen him.

"No," she lied. Then she sighed. She was not good at being untruthful. "I saw him earlier…outside. But I haven't seen him since."

Her mother stood at the window, watching out of it, but her father said, "He must have gone off with some friends. He'll be back before it gets too dark."

Then he commented, "Look, there goes the Pye's carriage. I wonder what they're doing out so late. I hope no one's ill."

But Mrs. Andrews was not distracted by whatever the Pyes were doing. She was focused on Billy. "Did he seem upset after apologizing to Anne?" she asked. "Did she say something unkind to him?"

Jane was bothered- but not surprised- that her mother would blame Anne for upsetting Billy.

"No, Mother, Anne didn't say a word to him when he apologized," Jane finally said. This was not a lie. Anne hadn't said a word when Billy had apologized, because Anne had been asleep.

"She told him she'd _forgive_ him, though, didn't she?" Mr. Andrews asked.

Mrs. Andrews pushed, "She _must_ have. She can't go on holding a grudge against him."

"She won't," Jane said softly.

 _She won't hold a grudge because holding a grudge means being angry and right now she's so sad and tired she can't even muster up some anger._

"Harmon, it's getting dark out _now_. Let's go look for him. If he's at a friend's house that's fine, but we ought to at least know that he's there. I'm worried."

After her parents left, Jane sat in the parlor alone, staring out the window and wondering where Billy was.

It was nearly three hours before her parents came home. They had gone to every house they thought Billy might be, but he was nowhere to be found.

Strangely, many of their neighbors and friends seemed distant from them, and unwilling to help. One family did not answer the door at all, though the Andrews could clearly see that they were at home. Others told them curtly that Billy was _certainly_ not in _their_ house, and they could be of no assistance.

But if there was any ill will in their response, the Andrews did not detect it. They simply inquired if their son was there, and upon hearing no, they moved quickly on to the next house, hoping he'd be at the next one.

They finally returned home, without their son.

* * *

There was very little sleep in the Andrews home that night. Mr. Andrews slept on a chair in the parlor in his suit, never having gone to bed at all. Mrs. Andrews had changed for bed, but sat awake at their bedroom window, looking out worriedly out onto the lawn and the road.

Jane and Prissy went to bed, but Prissy drifted into a light, troubled sleep, and Jane lay awake all night.

* * *

The next morning, Mrs. Andrews was in tears and wanted to fetch the police.

"We can't go to the police," Mr. Andrews said, frustrated. "We cannot have any involvement with them; the police will surely question people about if they've seen Billy, and if they question the Cuthberts, what will _they_ say about it?"

"But the police might find Billy," Mrs. Andrews pleaded.

"Yes, they might find him. And then _he'll_ say something to them that lets the whole thing out of the bag!" Mr. Andrews said angrily.

"Then what are we to do?" Mrs. Andrews said weepily. "My baby is out, God knows where, we cannot just sit at home and wait!"

"We won't, dear. We'll go out and keep looking. We haven't asked everyone. Let's not panic yet."

"…You're right. We only asked friends and neighbors. We need to stop at _every_ home, even people we don't know well."

Mr. Andrews patted her hand. "And if he still isn't found, we'll drive out further, to the next town over- perhaps he's run away. We'll find him."

Mrs. Andrews nodded, taking a calming breath.

* * *

Miss Winston, the tutor, tried to occupy Prissy and Jane while their parents were anxious about Billy.

Jane did not do her work with Miss Winston the way Prissy and Billy did, but she sat with Miss Winston and worked today, because even though it was Saturday, they must do something to distract themselves, and Miss Winston kept them busy.

Miss Winston had offered to go out and look for Billy as well, but Mr. and Mrs. Andrews said they wanted her to stay at the house in case Billy came back home.

She did not particularly enjoy having Billy for a student- he did not want to work, and he was sometimes surly and disrespectful, but she cared about the two young people entrusted to her, and one of them being missing was distressing.

* * *

In town, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews went into every store, and asked employees if they had seen their son. They questioned every passerby they saw.

Strangely, people in town acted rather cold to them.

They had gotten similar reactions the previous night, but they'd been going from house to house too quickly to pay much attention to it.

Today, moving through town and speaking to people, it could no longer go unnoticed: nearly every person they spoke to seemed to give them the same detached, distrustful expression.

When they stopped a family with four daughters, to ask if they'd seen Billy, the mother asked, sounding horrified, "He's out here somewhere, and no one knows where? Girls, come with mama now, you mustn't go off _alone_." And they rushed past the Andrews.

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews looked at each other, their eyes confirming that the other was thinking the same thing they were thinking.

They slowly looked around. People were whispering about them, and turned away when they saw the Andrews' looking at them.

When Mrs. Andrews saw Mrs. Pye stepping out of a shop, she rushed over, dragging her husband with her.

Mrs. Pye looked startled to see them. Then she seemed stiff somehow. "How do you do?"

Mrs. Andrews searched her face. "Do you know what's going on?"

"I do."

"Well, what- everyone is looking at us and we can't find Billy anywhere!"

"He's missing?" Mrs. Pye asked, her face draining of color. "Excuse me, I must find Josie. I let her go off on her own, and if you don't know where your son is, then-"

"Would you please tell us what is going on?" Mr. Andrews demanded.

Mrs. Pye took a breath. "Your _son_ is a…is a _monster_. My Josie told me-"

"You _told_ us what Josie _said_ -"

"I told you what Josie said, yes, but my daughter was spreading falsehoods. And I spread them even further! Everything I told you was a lie. Anne wasn't telling anyone at school any rumor. Gilbert was never involved with her. Your son is a violent and dangerous-"

"Our son did nothing of the sort!" Mrs. Andrews said, on the verge of tears. Of course she knew what Billy had done, and she knew it was wrong, but she would never publicly denounce her child.

"Well, if he didn't, then why did he _say_ that he did?" Mrs. Pye asked, her eyebrows raised. "Josie came home in tears yesterday because Billy said _out loud_ that he had violated that girl and in the most brutal way imaginable!"

"He's…no, he didn't mean…she must have misunderstood…" Mrs. Andrews tried unsuccessfully to find words to bring Billy back into her good graces.

"He said it plain as day, Mrs. Andrews, and you know, I heard the bank teller whisper to someone that if Billy hadn't attacked that girl, you'd never have transferred money over to her- yes, everyone knows about _that_ , too!- _clearly_ you were trying to pay that girl off to keep quiet about it! And that's as far as I care to talk about it. I'll be on my way. Good day. If you find Billy, please question him about his time on the run. I do hope he hasn't run across some innocent lady while he's on the loose."

"But-"

"One more thing. I want you to know I will no longer allow my Josie to have any association with your son. And I imagine the other parents- especially the parents of girls- will feel much the same way."

She stalked off, intent on finding her daughter and keeping her close at her side.

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews did not know what to do.

* * *

In the morning, Gilbert went over to Green Gables first thing.

"Son," Mr. Blythe had said tenderly the week before, "I'm having more good days than ever. I'll be all right. You need to be with Anne."

Grateful for the chance to spend more time with Anne, but not wanting to leave his dad alone, Gilbert had gone to their old housekeeper, who had helped bring him up, and asked if she could be hired on again.

Today was her first day back to the Blythe's, and when she arrived, Gilbert was able to go straight to Anne with no reservations and no guilt over dividing his time.

* * *

Anne was sitting in bed with a plate of untouched pancakes.

"How 'bout I go down and see if Miss Cuthbert has some confectioner sugar?" He smiled at her.

She was not interested.

"Would you drink some milk?" he asked.

"I already had some," she told him. The glass looked as if she'd taken maybe one sip.

"I was hoping you'd feel a little better," he said with a sad smile. "Now that you know Josie's on your side."

"Gilbert," she asked suddenly. "Would you go get my things out of my hideaway? I have a story I was working on before I stopped going to school, and I'd like to keep working on it."

"You kept them there?" he asked, confused. "Wouldn't the weather ruin the papers?"

She shook her head. "No. Well, they could be wet. But I hope not. There's a bag they're in, and I lined it with wax paper, and it's tucked in between some boards that were nailed high up on the wall. You'll see it."

"All right," he said, getting up. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

If Anne expressed some interest in doing something, _anything_ , he'd waste no time in helping her do just that.

He set off quickly to the woods.

When he arrived at Anne's hideaway, he found Billy.


	220. A Palace Not Built to Withstand a Siege

I don't think Billy is a character who ever really feels bad about anything he does (at least not during Season 1, maybe he'll change in upcoming seasons). And I really doubt the boy who did this to me felt bad, I mean I'll never know but I just doubt it.

However.

It would make _me_ feel slightly better to think that when people do terrible things they realize what they did and they feel bad about hurting people.

…But that is just unrealistic. I don't think he can actually feel real regret. So, I decided I AM going to have him feel bad, but he'll only feel a _tiny_ little bit bad.

* * *

After Billy ran away- angry at Jane and devastated by Josie's disgust at him- he did not know what to do. He wandered through the fields until he came to the woods. He walked into them and stomped around for a while, frustrated and with no way to express it.

As he wandered, he came across a tumbled down little structure in the woods. It was leaning against a tree, and since it looked inviting, he went in.

He looked around. Though there were dry leaves scattered around and the shelter seemed abandoned, it looked as if someone had been there in time gone by. There were a few boards stacked on each other, arranged for sitting on, and there was a big rock in the middle of the house. At first he thought the pinecones on the rock were just ones that had fallen through the cracks in the roof, until he realized they were arranged in a pattern. There was a branch that had been stuck through a knothole in the wall, and the branch had been decorated with tiny bits of cloth hanging from it.

He sat down on the seat that the boards made. He wondered who had been here.

He swept a pile of acorns out of the way so he could stretch his legs out, and as he moved them he realized the acorns had faces. He picked one up. A tiny face made with black ink smiled back at him.

He looked at it for a minute, then threw it at the wall. It bounced off the wall and the acorn cap came off. He started throwing them all at the wall, watching the caps bounce off one by one.

It felt good, but it wasn't enough. He started to crush the stupid happy acorn faces in his hands, feeling satisfaction every time one was destroyed.

He did not care who had made the little faces or how it would feel for the person to find them ruined. He cared only that destroying them made him feel better.

But once they were all thrown or crushed, he had nothing to do. He thought about shoving the whole house down, but then he'd have nowhere to go, because he didn't want to go home. This little shelter would have to be home at least for a few hours until he could figure out what to do.

What _could_ he do?

Josie knew what he'd done. He'd told her that Anne had seduced him and that he was sorry he'd fallen for it. Now she knew the truth.

His parents knew what he'd done, of course, and the Cuthberts…and probably a lot of _other_ people would know soon, too, now that Josie was angry with him.

He thought about running away, but where would he go? And he didn't have any money. He could steal, he supposed, but if he were caught he'd only make things worse.

"Ugh," he groaned out loud, feeling like screaming, but not wanting anyone to hear him, in case anyone was close by.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve. He hated that he had started to cry in front of his sister. But he couldn't help it.

He felt like crying right now, too, but kept himself from it. He wasn't going to cry. He'd rather be angry than cry, crying was for babies, and he was a man.

Only he didn't feel much like a man. He felt like a sad, scared child. He started looking around the house again. High up, close to the roof, there were boards nailed together with something shoved between them. Curious, he pulled a little bit on whatever was between them. A small canvas bag came out, stiff and covered with dust. The bottom of the bag was moldy, where moisture had seeped in. Avoiding the mold, he pulled open the bag from the top and peeked inside.

He sat back down on the boards before he pulled out what he saw inside. A stack of papers was folded up inside sheets of wax paper. There was writing on the papers.

He dropped the bag next to him and drew his knees up, deciding to settle back against the boards behind him and read the papers. He did not care who had left them or if they were meant to be private. He had nothing to do, and here they were, and he intended to do what he liked.

"The Tragical Romance of Reginald and Anastacia," he read.

 _This is some boring love story,_ he thought. _But seeing as I've got nothing else to do…_

When he finished reading the three pages- which were indeed a love story, and a very sad one at that- he moved on to the next story.

"The Ill-Fated Voyage of the Cursed Bellflower"

 _Maybe this one will be better,_ he thought, starting to read.

He liked this one- it was about a ship sailing peacefully across the ocean, until it crossed the path of where a cursed sunken ship lay on the ocean floor, and the ghosts from the sunken ship rose up out of the water to join the ship now sailing, so that they could move back to dry land and haunt the pirates who had sunk them years before. It was only four pages, and when it was over, he was sad to see it finished.

He had not thought about who left these papers, because he did not care. They were here to amuse him and to pass the time, and he gave no thought to where they came from. He came to the next story, called,

"Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler meets the White Knight and is Rescued from the Murderous Buford"

 _What a ridiculous title_ , he thought. _And what the dickens is her name so long for?_

The story began with Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler walking in an enchanted forest. Billy began to get bored with the story almost immediately, because the description of the enchanted forest took up nearly a whole page. He did not care about the friendly animals or the way the light glimmered through the branches. He skimmed ahead to get out of that part.

There was mention that Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler carried around with her some torturous wound, but no explanation of how she got it.

The only other character so far was a man who was called The White Knight. He had a white horse and a suit of shining armor. He was not given a name, but there was another boring description of how the knight was good and kind and loved by all. Billy rolled his eyes.

He was interested to know what the torturous wound was, but all that was mentioned was that The White Knight had done his best to heal her.

But the origin of it was said to be _"so dreadful that she could not speak its name"_ and that it "a _ffected every part of her, from the time she awoke in the dawn, until the moment she closed her eyes at night, and even followed her into her dreams"_.

As if that wasn't bad enough, _"though she tried to heal the wound, it grew worse by the day, instead of better, and none who loved her could heal it",_ and _"what made it all the worse was that the one who had caused it, would hurt her all over again, if given the chance. She was never safe, and could never again be alone in her Enchanted Forest."_

That was when the character called Murderous Buford entered the story.

Billy thought the girl's story was sad and all, but he hoped things would get a bit more exciting. His title was Murderous; maybe there'd be a fight.

There was: The White Knight challenged Murderous Buford to a duel. _Good,_ Billy thought. _Maybe it'll be a big fight, with swords and blood and everything._

The White Knight said he was fighting for the honor of his lady, the fair Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler, because Murderous Buford wanted to be her ruin, and had caused her much harm. They began dueling, and Billy was happy that the battle scene was written so descriptively he could see it all.

But neither one died at the end, which was a disappointment. Billy had been rooting more for Murderous Buford, because The White Knight sounded like a goody-two-shoes.

At the end of the battle, Murderous Buford ran off, vowing to get revenge, while The White Knight scooped up the beautiful Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler and whisked her away.

The White Knight cried because he was so happy to save her from Murderous Buford, and when he cried, his teardrops fell on her and magically healed her wound.

Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler said she did not want The White Knight to be her protector forever, she wanted to protect herself. The White Knight told her she was strong and brave, and that the two of them together could beat all odds.

The story started to get boring because clearly these two were just mooning over each other, and Billy hoped there wouldn't be anything too mushy in it. He moved ahead to the next part. Maybe the Murderous Buford would reappear and liven things up.

As the story went on, Murderous Buford did lots of terrible things, and Billy started to change his mind about liking him. A lot of the things he did were stupid, and had no purpose beyond laughing at the characters getting hurt. He still thought The White Knight was annoying for being so perfect, but Murderous Buford was starting to get on his nerves too.

One day, Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler was in her palace alone, when Murderous Buford stormed in. Good, maybe things would get exciting again. Billy read on,

 _The palace was not built to withstand a siege, and henceforth barriers were placed around all the doors and windows, so that never again could such a siege take place. But that was later, and for now Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler was vulnerable. Murderous Buford came nearer, and she wondered how she could defend herself. Perhaps her White Knight would return. She shook in fear as Murderous Buford loomed over her._

"Geez, what's his problem?" Billy asked out loud.

 _But instead of hurting her, Murderous Buford dropped to his knees and begged her to marry him._

"What?" Billy asked out loud, making a face. He must have missed something. It didn't make sense.

 _Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler was so surprised she could barely speak. She began to laugh, as it was so preposterous an idea that she could not contain herself._

Billy did not know what preposterous meant. He read on,

 _Murderous Buford flew into a rage, shoving her to the palace floor. She could not breathe. She knew she was going to die._

"Where is The White Knight, anyway?" Billy asked. "Isn't he supposed to rush in and save the day?"

 _Suddenly The White Knight appeared, in all his shining armor, and he struck the Murderous Buford. Blood came pouring down, and Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler found herself strong enough to finish the job herself. The White Knight beamed in pride. Murderous Burford again ran away, defeated._

"But he keeps coming back," Billy muttered. "They need to just do away with him once and for all."

 _Though Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler was again rescued, an evil curse had been placed on her by Murderous Buford. She was turned into a rose, and she began to wilt. The White Knight came every day to water her, and he brought with him the sunshine, hoping to bring her to life again._

 _But alas, even the love of The White Knight could not save her, and in great sorrow, she resigned herself to the truth that she was very likely to perish._

Billy turned the paper over. That couldn't be the end. It wasn't. The next page continued,

 _Once Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler knew she could not survive the curse of Murderous Buford, the King and Queen were very sad, for even though she was not their rightful daughter, they had grown to love her as their own. The raven haired beauty who lived across the Lake of Shining Waters grieved most tragically. But no one grieved more than The White Knight, who had pledged his undying love to her._

"This story is a real downer," Billy muttered to himself. "Can't they save her?" He thought everyone was dumb for sitting around moping instead of dragging Murderous Buford back to fix the problem.

 _Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler, and all those around her, tried and tried to lift the curse…but no one could. She wept bitterly, for she knew she could not survive as long as she carried it._

 _This isn't helping._

Billy stared at the page.

That didn't seem to be part of the story. He re-read the sentence, feeling confused.

 _Nothing is helping. I don't want to see him again. But here he is, he's everywhere, and I have no choice. ...I'm tired of feeling scared all the time._

 _And it isn't just about him anymore. It's about other people, too. I'm scared to let people get close to me and I'm scared to have any kind of a future with anyone. How can I, now?_

No longer thinking about the story, and now just intrigued by whoever had bared their feelings on paper, he turned the page and continued reading:

 _I hate that he thinks it was nothing- like it was the same as if he'd hit me or called me names. It's not! It's not the same at all. Every time I close my eyes it's happening all over again. But he can just go on with life like nothing's happened._

 _They say time heals all wounds, but I guess you have to heal them yourself. No one else can. And all the time that's gone by has only left me even more broken._

 _I don't know what to do. There's only one way to make the pain stop._

 _But I can't hurt my family. And I can't hurt Gilbert. He can't lose his dad and lose me, too._

 _So I'm not going to do that. I'm choosing not to._

 _But the outcome of choosing to hang onto this existence, is that I'm going to slowly drift farther and farther away from the world. I don't know if I'll ever come back._

 _I used to think I was a strong person._

 _I don't anymore._

He was silent for a good minute before he slowly began turning back the pages to the beginning. He _thought_ he had recognized that handwriting when he first saw it, but he couldn't remember whose it was. _Now_ he remembered where he'd seen it: Persephone and the Dragon- that story he'd read over Fido's shoulder the day Mr. Phillips had made her sit with him at school. The one he'd ripped from her hands. When he'd dipped his pen into her inkwell and smiled, reminding her of what he'd done to her only days before…

He shook himself out of that memory and went back to the beginning of the story. He began reading it all over again, now picking up on connections he'd missed only moments earlier.

When he finished, he made a face, and then pushed all the papers back into the moldy bag and shoved them between the two boards that were nailed on the wall.

He sat down on the boards that made a seat, and leaned back against the wall.

He thought about what he'd done. He didn't feel _bad_ exactly, because he thought he was justified in it. He told himself she was overreacting. …But there was something so _harsh_ , so _final_ , in those words.

He had never really thought about how _one_ thing could change _every_ thing. Something that had lasted only a few minutes could make someone live differently for the rest of their life.

Perhaps he had taken things too far.

He would never feel completely remorseful, but doubt had crept in.

Billy's face was one of angry defiance, but after a moment it relaxed into an expression unfamiliar to him.

He was glad no one was there to see him cry.

He did not go home that night, but stayed in the tiny shelter. It was still too cool to be outdoors, and the woods were unforgiving. But he could not go home. So he lay, shivering, and when he woke up from his troubled sleep, he was stiff and sore.

His eyes were red and puffy in the morning when Gilbert found him.


	221. Grace

I was going to have Billy go away angry, but I decided to have him go away sad instead.

Gilbert will be the instrument of change.

The title of this chapter is Grace because grace is when someone is nice to you even though you don't deserve it.

* * *

Gilbert and Billy looked equally surprised to see each other.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked in unison.

"I can be wherever I want," Billy said defensively, standing up. He tried to look intimidating, but that was hard to do when he had to sniffle. He wiped his nose across his sleeve, still glaring at Gilbert.

His eyes were red and puffy.

"Why were you crying?" Gilbert asked.

Billy's face took on a disgusted look. "I _wasn't."_

Gilbert looked at him. His face seemed too white, except for his eyes, and his hands were chapped. His hair- always perfectly in place- looked like it had been slept on without being combed. His coat had dry leaves stuck to it.

"Have you been out here all night?" Gilbert asked with sudden realization.

Billy did not answer.

Gilbert came closer. "This shed is Anne's, you shouldn't be here."

"She didn't _build_ it, did she?" Billy asked defiantly.

"Of course not. But she found it, and she's made it her own and you have no business being in it."

"It's not hers," Billy insisted. "Anyway, what are _you_ doing here?"

"None of your business," Gilbert said coldly, stepping in and starting to look for what Anne had asked him to bring her.

"What are you looking for?"

"If you must know: a bag. I wouldn't tell you, except I may as well, since you might've found it and destroyed it, and then there'd be no sense in me continuing to look for it," Gilbert responded, his eyes searching the shed.

"Oh, the bag with the stories in it? It's over there," Billy pointed. Maybe now that Gilbert had what he came for, he'd leave. Billy just wanted to be alone.

Gilbert gave him a sideways glance. "How do _you_ know what's in the bag?"

Billy shrugged. "Had to have _something_ to do out here."

"So you really _were_ here all night," Gilbert said, looking at him.

Billy made a face, and stopped talking.

Gilbert took the bag out from between the boards Billy had directed him to. He pulled the papers out to take to Anne and dropped the bag on the ground; it was moldy anyway, so he wouldn't bring that back to her.

He was happy to just walk away and leave Billy, but then he stopped. "How much did you read?"

"All of them," Billy answered honestly.

Gilbert looked down at the stories. There were three. The last one caught his eye, because he instantly recognized the long name in the title: Annabelle Carlotta Sherman Cuyler was _clearly_ meant to stand in for Anne Cordelia Shirley Cuthbert.

Glancing through the pages, he realized it ended with Anne spilling her thoughts onto paper- herself, _Anne_ , not Annabelle Carlotta.

He looked up at Billy. Then he sat down on the boards in the shed and started reading.

Billy just stared at him a moment. Then he asked, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Gilbert asked tersely. "I'm reading."

Billy bit his lip, trying to think quickly. "You shouldn't read her personal things."

Gilbert stopped and looked up at him. His expression said it all. Then he turned back to the papers and kept reading.

Billy did not care about if Anne's personal papers were read by Gilbert, he just cared that they reflected him in a negative light and so he did not want Gilbert to read them.

"Why _are_ you reading them?" Billy asked, trying to distract Gilbert. "They're stupid, anyway."

"Shh, I'm busy," Gilbert said, not looking at him.

When he got done, he turned the pages back to the front and looked up at Billy.

" _You_ read them, doesn't she care about _that?"_ Billy asked, trying to turn things around on Gilbert.

"She tells me everything. I don't think she'd mind me reading things she wrote. But you're right, I _should_ have asked her first. I only didn't because I thought I better know what you read."

Billy was annoyed that no one trusted him anymore. "Are you going to go now?"

Gilbert hesitated. "No," he decided. "I want to know why you're hiding out here. Afraid to go home?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said defensively. "I don't have anything to be afraid _of_."

"All right," Gilbert said, standing up to leave. "If you ever see Anne- and I hope you won't- don't tell her you read these. This is stuff she would've told me, not _you_. She wouldn't be happy to know you saw them."

Billy didn't say anything. Then suddenly he burst out, "Why do you like her so much? She's ugly. And her writing is stupid. And you're a loser for mooning over her the way you do. You act like you're in love with her."

Gilbert tried not to let Billy drag him into an argument, but he couldn't resist. "Why do you like Josie?" he asked.

Billy looked confused at the sudden question. Finally he said, "I don't know. She's pretty."

"She's mean, though," Gilbert pointed out. "Not all the time, but enough."

Billy shrugged.

Gilbert laughed. "All right," he said. "If that's all you need- _pretty_ \- then fine. Some of us like a girl who's smart, and funny, and kind, and full of imagination and creativity. Someone who thinks about the world around her, instead of just what's in the mirror."

Once that was out, Gilbert was done, and began walking away.

"You _love_ that ugly dog, don't you?" Billy called out after him, his lips curling into a mocking smile as if this amused him greatly. "You've loved her since the first time you saw her ugly freckle-face."

Gilbert stopped walking. He turned around to face Billy again. He did not want to keep talking to Billy, but now he couldn't help it.

"Maybe it was just hard to see the freckles through all the _tears_ ," Gilbert said, his jaw clenched.

Billy's face went red. He had not thought of that: that the first time Gilbert ever saw Anne, it was directly after his encounter with her.

Billy tried to push himself out of that uncomfortable feeling he kept getting when he thought about what he'd done.

But Gilbert, his jaw still clenched in anger, went on: "I found out I liked her. A _lot_. And when she was gone I missed her. There's never been anybody else that I think about so much. Every minute I'm not with her, I wish I was. I didn't know it was possible to feel that for someone. But I _do_. So if _that's_ what love is, then yeah, I _love_ her."

Billy did not expect Gilbert to open up so much, and he stood there a moment, unsure of what to say.

Since Billy had no response, Gilbert shook his head at him. "You have no idea what love feels like. You _can't_. I don't know what's wrong with you, to be so cold. I want to hate you, but I can't. I feel _sorry_ for you, Billy."

Finally Billy said- as if he wanted to prove something- "I love _Josie_."

"Too bad she doesn't like you anymore. But what did you expect?"

That made Billy angry, but then Gilbert said something that hadn't occurred to him:

"If you really loved her- or any girl- you'd never have done something like this."

Then Gilbert walked up and pulled a pear out of his pocket. "Here. _You_ can have this. I was going to give it to Anne, but you're probably hungry since you've been hiding all night, afraid to go home."

Billy took it, but then stood looking down at it. He didn't know what to say, but felt he had to say something. Gilbert was making him feel about two feet tall.

"I'm not afraid to go home," he mumbled.

"Then why are you here?" Gilbert asked.

Billy finally said, lowly, "I don't know." He wiped his nose on his sleeve again.

"What are you going to do?" Gilbert asked, softer this time. "Are you going to go home, or run away?"

Billy looked around the woods that surrounded him. He bit his lip.

He was quiet for a long moment.

"Your parents must be worried. And Jane."

"Jane hates me."

"No, she doesn't," Gilbert said, surprised.

"Yes, she does. She's ruining my life."

Gilbert said to him, "Do you realize how much Jane has cried over you?"

Billy did not know. He looked away, and then muttered, "She didn't have to go telling everyone."

Gilbert sighed. "She wouldn't have had to, if you'd told them yourself. You did something wrong. You should have just admitted it."

Billy shrugged, still avoiding Gilbert's eyes.

Gilbert said, "I wish when you apologized that you _meant_ it. It wouldn't have fixed anything, not really, but…I wish you had."

Billy did not like the way Gilbert was making him feel.

It would be much better if he could turn it around and blame someone else. …But that was getting harder and harder to do.

What Gilbert said next only made it worse:

"We used to be friends."

"Yeah, we did," was all Billy could say.

"Why did we stop?" Gilbert asked, looking at him.

"Because you think you're perfect," Billy told him. "And so does everyone else."

Gilbert shook his head. "I don't think I'm perfect. Far from it. I just try to do my best. That's all any of us can do, isn't it?"

Billy shrugged.

Gilbert began to wonder how much he could push Billy. He said, "Sometimes I think you must feel pretty powerless."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Billy asked with a sneer.

He was back to being defensive, and it was a long moment before Gilbert answered: "I wish you could feel powerful from lifting other people up, instead of tearing them down."

Billy looked at the ground.

"I'm not any better than you, Billy," Gilbert said- although at this point he did not really think that was true. "I just think about other people first, and try to be nice. If people like me, that's why. And you can do the same thing. If you want to. But that has to come from you."

Billy didn't say anything.

Gilbert said, "Some people are in such a bad place, and you can be the one with the power to get them out of it. …There's a lot of strength in kindness, Billy."

When Billy still did not make any response, Gilbert moved on:

"So you read Anne's papers, eh? What'd you think?"

Billy finally looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Gilbert held up the papers in his hand. "Has she ever told you how she feels?"

Billy could not remember if she had or not. If she had, he doubted he had any paid attention to her. "I don't know," he finally said.

Gilbert nodded slowly. "I just wondered. For the future."

"The future?"

" _Your_ future. You can't do anything for Anne- at least, not anything you'd be willing to do- but you _can_ think about the future. If you learned anything…if you want to _change_. So you won't hurt someone else."

Billy looked around at the woods. "I…"

"What?" Gilbert asked softly, seeing that- for once- Billy seemed to be _thinking_ about something.

"Uh…what did you mean? When you said there was something I could do but I wouldn't be willing to do it."

Gilbert was quiet a moment, before beginning: "In this _town_ …with you _in_ it…"

And Billy's mind flashed back to the words he'd read on paper: _I don't want to see him again. But here he is, he's everywhere, and I have no choice._

Gilbert breathed,"She can't _live."_

That's what she meant, wasn't it, Billy realized. She couldn't _live_ …whether or not he thought that was an overreaction, the point was…

…the point was that because of his actions, _she very nearly chose not to._

The words she had written burned in his mind just as sharply as his own words had burned in Anne's mind. _I don't know what to do- there's only one way to make the pain stop._

And he had to ask himself if he could live with that. No matter what his opinion was on the events that had taken place, would he be able to live with that _forever_ \- knowing that _he'd_ made someone so unhappy with life that they'd rather end it than keep going on?

If Anne could not live in this town as long as _he_ was in it…did that mean he should…

Gilbert pulled Billy out of his thoughts:

"Well, you'll have to decide for yourself what that means. But I think you should go home now. I think your parents are probably worried sick, and you love them, so you should go."

Billy's gaze left Gilbert and hesitantly moved to the woods around them.

He looked scared. Too nervous to eat the pear, he gave it back to Gilbert.

Gilbert looked at him for a long moment, and decided to choose kindness: "I'll go with you. You don't have to go alone."

Billy looked like he wasn't sure what to say. But when Gilbert said, "Come on," and gestured for them to walk, Billy followed.


	222. The Whistle of the Train

Jane was the one who saw Billy first, as he walked slowly toward the house, with Gilbert at his side.

"Mother! Mother, Father- come quickly! It's Billy!"

Her parents rushed to her, with Prissy close behind.

Whatever Billy was afraid of, he did not have to face it yet, because the first order of business for his parents was just to be glad he was home.

Billy was nearly pressed to death with hugs, and both Prissy and his mother were crying. Gilbert hung back, letting them have their moment as a family.

When the fussing died down, the Andrews looked over to Gilbert.

"Gilbert, did you help find Billy?" Mrs. Andrews asked, and then to Billy she said, "Were you lost, darling?"

Gilbert did not answer, letting Billy give the explanation himself.

Billy opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, his father cut in, asking angrily, "Why on _earth_ would you tell Josie what you did?"

"Uh-"

Mrs. Andrews told him tearfully, "Now Josie and her mother have gone _all over town_ telling everyone the _truth!_ "

Billy nodded, unsure of what to do.

His father shook his head at him. "You should have left well enough alone, son. You've made everything worse for yourself _and_ for _us!"_

Mrs. Andrews began to cry. "The things people are saying about us!"

Billy began, "Well, Josie wouldn't have known if it hadn't been for..."

Billy was sure Jane had been waiting at home for him, expecting him to storm into the house and tell their parents about the way she had _tricked_ him into admitting to Josie what he'd done.

"If it hadn't been for what, son?"

"Uh…" Billy's eyes locked with Jane's.

He saw how upset his little sister looked.

Jane was already treated badly by their parents for outing him to the Cuthberts.

If he told them she'd outed him to _Josie_ …and _through_ Josie to the entire _town_ …

Only a few hours ago, he couldn't wait to get her into trouble. But something was stopping him, and he didn't know what it was, but he found himself unable to hurt her.

Speaking to his parents, but still looking at Jane, he finally said, "Well… _I_ wanted to tell Josie."

Jane's eyes changed.

"Billy…" Mrs. Andrews began, upset, shaking her head.

"I _wanted_ her to change the rumors. It wasn't fair for everyone to think Fido…uh, Anne…did something wrong. It was me. I had to tell the truth."

Billy was too afraid to look at his parents, and instead looked to Gilbert.

The expression on Gilbert's face was one he'd seen Gilbert give lots of people before, but never him.

Billy took a deep breath and finally looked his parents in the eye.

"I don't know what to do," his mother said, near panic. "How can we survive this?"

"We…we have to figure something out," Mr. Andrews faltered.

"I'll be going, then," Gilbert said quietly. "See you."

Billy's parents didn't even notice Gilbert turning to walk away, and hurried their son into the house, followed quickly by Prissy.

But Jane hung back, wanting to speak to Gilbert.

"What did you do?" she asked quietly once they were alone.

Gilbert told her, "I went to that shed in the woods. Anne goes there sometimes. I was looking for her stories, but I found Billy."

Jane's face paled. "Oh no, he didn't destroy it…"

Gilbert shook his head. "He didn't even know it was Anne's." Then he told her, "My first thought was that he was in the woods just to re-live some of his finer moments, but…he wasn't. He was hiding because he was afraid to come home. He'd been crying."

Jane was surprised by this.

Gilbert went on: "We talked. And..I think we got to some sort of breakthrough. Maybe just a small one, but one nonetheless."

"And you convinced him to come home," Jane said softly. "Thank you, Gilbert."

Gilbert gave her a hollow smile.

Jane asked, "But how did you convince him not to tell our parents about the way I tricked him? I was sure he would."

Gilbert shook his head. "I didn't. That came from him."

Jane didn't say anything to him, but when she smiled, there were tears in her eyes.

* * *

That night was tense in the Andrews home.

Billy was treated by his parents in much the same way that Jane had been, and finally went up to bed just to get away from them.

He knew they would be angry with him, but he'd chosen not to out Jane's plot anyway. He decided his sister had been through enough, and it was time for him to take over the burden of what he'd done.

* * *

The next day was worse for all of them because Mr. and Mrs. Andrews went into town to mail a package and pick up items at the general store. Everywhere they went, a hush fell as people realized they had come in to the shop. And whenever they left a shop, they could feel stares and hear whispers as they walked away.

It was embarrassing.

The Andrews believed that the condition on Billy returning to school had been that he apologized to Anne, but how could he go to school now that everyone knew what he'd done?

In the post office Mrs. Pye told them loudly that she intended to write a letter to the school board urging them to expel Billy from Avonlea school as it was unsafe for the female students to be in close proximity to a boy with such tendencies.

And when Mrs. Pye heard that the school board was sending a lady teacher after Mr. Phillips left, then _her_ welfare ought to be considered too. If Billy had reacted this way in anger, what might happen to her if she kept him after school?

The Andrews began to question the kind of future their son could have in this town.

Mr. Andrews wondered who would provide references for Billy, let alone grant him interviews. Could he ever find gainful employment?

And Mrs. Andrews' mind was on courtship prospects. There was no family in this town who wouldn't object to him pursuing their daughter.

* * *

Billy could hear his parents speaking in quiet, angry tones throughout most of the night.

It was three days before they'd come to a conclusion.

Not knowing what to do but knowing there was no way for him to recover his reputation, his parents decided to send him to stay with an aunt and uncle on his mother's side, in Nova Scotia, where he would help on their farm and- they hoped- begin his own path of healing. They would not call it temporary, and they would not call it permanent. They intended him to stay until he was finished with schooling and could go to a university. They would not send him to school in his new town, but intended to employ a tutor, as they had done here in Avonlea.

They would take the trip to Nova Scotia with him, and meet with the pastor there, intending to have Billy confess to him what he had done, and get the assurance of the pastor that he would be keeping a close eye on him and would work with him on changes he needed to make. …They did not know if this would work, but there was the smallest possibility it would, only because Billy was willing to try.

* * *

After Billy's assault became public, Jane was not in school the next day, or the day after.

Gilbert knew there was a lot going on in the Andrew's home, and he was sorry that Jane had to deal with the fallout. But there was nothing he could do.

 _This is what sin does_ , he thought sadly, _it's like a stone, tossed into a pond, sending ripples of waves out around it, spreading outward in circles, wider and wider, affecting every person around it, even if they were innocent._

Jane did not come back to school until the news that Billy would not be returning had reached every ear.

Gilbert found out later from Jane that there had been talk of moving away from Avonlea, as she heard her parents discussing what to do late at night in hushed tones. But ultimately they had decided to stay; it would have burdened them to pick up and move their entire lives off of the island.

Jane thought Billy would object to being sent away from them, but when his parents told him their intentions, he didn't say anything at all for a few minutes, and then only, "…All right."

* * *

On the following Monday, Gilbert surprised Jane by coming to the train station to see Billy off.

"I'm off to the station now. Billy's leaving today," he had told Anne when he left her.

"Why do you want to go?" Anne had asked blankly.

"Because I want to be able to tell you that he _did_ get on the train and go. I want to know with my own eyes that he left," he said as he pulled his jacket on. "And when I come back you're going to be able to go out into the world again." He smiled at her.

Anne did not want to hope too much, and Gilbert was a lot more confident than she was about her feeling better.

But she was able to _imagine_ getting up and going out into the world again once she knew that Billy was nowhere near her, and that was the first step.

"I'll be right back, and then everything'll be different. You'll see."

* * *

The whistle of the train startled Gilbert as he arrived. He looked for the Andrews. He knew that Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were taking the trip to Nova Scotia with Billy, in order to get him settled, and had already boarded the train, leaving Billy to say goodbye to his sisters.

Prissy wiped her eyes after saying goodbye to her brother and went to wait in the carriage, and then Jane was the only one left.

Billy looked a little angry at Jane for just a moment- thinking this whole thing had started because of her- but then his face relaxed and he settled on the conclusion that it had started because of _him_. And he could not stay mad at her, knowing how he had hurt her. They hugged, and Jane felt that- for her, anyway- this whole nightmare was coming to an end.

Gilbert was the last person Billy expected to see at the station. He and Jane turned to Gilbert in surprise.

"Hey, Gilbert," Billy said huskily, trying to swallow his emotion.

"Hi," Gilbert said softly.

"Didn't expect _you_ to be here," Billy said, looking away.

"I just thought I'd come see you off."

"Yeah."

"Do you like your aunt and uncle?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah. They're nice," Billy answered offhandedly, just to make conversation because things felt awkward.

"Good. I hope…I hope things work out for you there," Gilbert said, nodding.

"I guess they will," Billy mumbled.

"It's up to _you_ , though," Gilbert pointed out. "It'll be whatever you make it. Remember that."

Billy nodded, staring at the ground. Then, surprisingly, he looked up at Gilbert and asked, "Will you write to me?"

"Why do you want to write to _me?"_ Gilbert asked. _And why do you think I'd want to?_

"…I don't know," Billy said. He seemed not to know how to say what he wanted to say.

Gilbert looked at him as if waiting for Billy to laugh and say he was joking. But he never did.

"Yeah," Gilbert finally said. "Yeah, I will."

Billy, biting his lip, nodded and then turned to get in.

He waved to Jane from the window, and the train whistled again; for Jane, forever linking the sound of a train whistle to the pain of losing her brother.

Gilbert watched as Billy grew smaller and smaller, until at last, he disappeared.

Jane came to his side. "Are you really going to write to him?"

Gilbert nodded.

"Why? Aren't you angry? You can't forgive him for what he did to Anne. She's your…you love her."

Gilbert was still watching the train growing ever more distant.

Finally he said, "I _am_ angry, and you're right, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for what he's done. ...But I'm not writing to him for _him_. I'm writing to him for all the other Anne's out there."

He turned to Jane. "The thing is…he seemed to be willing to listen to _me_. So if there's anything I can say that will keep him from the choice to hurt someone…I'm willing to do it."

* * *

When Gilbert returned to Green Gables, he went up to Anne's room, leaned down to kiss her on the head and whispered, "He's gone, love."


	223. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Thank you everybody who is reading my story…

…I feel narcissistic because seriously the highlight of my day is looking at the traffic graph to see how many people read today…LOL. …And your comments! Thank you for leaving me so many comments.

Also there are still a few more chapters to go, but I wanted to say that when I do get to the last chapter, I will put up a note saying it is the last one, so you will know beforehand.

Also about the depression there is a light at the end I promise…Billy leaving _helped_ …but depression is not easy to fix. But don't worry because someone comes to visit her who can relate to her and THAT is what does it for her. Sorry to leave you with a couple more chapters of depression but I really think you will like the way the story ends! Thanks for hanging in there and going through it with her/me. I can't wait to post the final chapters.

* * *

The next morning, Anne thought she would wake up feeling different somehow. She rolled over in bed, sighed, and stretched her arms above her head. She took a big breath and sat up, expecting to have a sense of lightness now. …But the weight that had settled itself in her chest had not lifted.

"It's because it's all so sudden," she said aloud to herself. "I need time to soak it in. Once it really hits me that he's gone, I'll feel light as a cloud."

She decided to stay in bed until that happened.

Marilla came up to check on her, and brought with her a glass of milk. She no longer bothered bringing Anne breakfast; it was never eaten and sat exposed until it was finally thrown out. The most Anne would do for breakfast was drink a little.

Anne took the glass from her and drank a little bit of it, but then gave it back.

"You can do better than that," Marilla told her.

Anne shook her head, pushing it away…she was too afraid it would upset her stomach, which seemed to be in knots for some reason.

"Anne, get up and come downstairs, won't you?" Marilla asked, trying to be gentle with her. "Now that Billy's left, you can do anything you like- you can go into town, you can go to school, there's church…"

Anne nodded. "I know. I will."

"Why don't you get dressed and we'll take you into town _now?_ We could go look at material. You can choose something pretty, and I'll start on a new dress for you to wear when you go back to school. You could go back as soon as it's finished. Wouldn't you like that?"

Anne felt a sense of panic tighten her insides the longer Marilla went on about going out to town and school.

But she told herself it was just a weakness of her lungs from going so long without fresh air.

"I don't think I ought to yet," Anne said carefully. "Maybe this afternoon."

But Gilbert came over in the afternoon, so Anne had him as an excuse of why she could not go into town yet.

Marilla suggested that Anne get up and go for a walk outdoors with Gilbert, and Anne thought that sounded nice…until she got up out of bed and realized she was afraid to look out of her own window.

That was when she began to get upset. Things were not happening the way they were supposed to.

She found she could not tell anyone what was wrong, in part because she herself did not know. She knew only that something about re-joining the living was making her feel terrified, and she wanted to shut her bedroom door and stay hidden away forever.

"Gilbert," she said, trying not to let panic be heard in her voice, "I don't feel good. Maybe you should go."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She seemed fine. "Can I do anything? What is it?"

Anne shook her head firmly. "No."

Gilbert reached out as if to put an arm around her, saying, "Can I stay and-"

"No," Anne said quickly, pulling away from him.

Gilbert stood there a moment, startled.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll see you tomorrow…I guess."

He was very slow about leaving.

* * *

When Marilla went upstairs later, Anne had the curtain shut, and had pulled her quilt over the curtain rod so that it, too, hung over the window, making the room nearly as dark as nighttime.

"Anne," Marilla said, coming nearer.

Anne did not answer.

"Anne," Marilla repeated, shaking Anne's shoulder.

"What?" Anne muttered.

Marilla went over to the window and pulled the quilt down from the rod. Sunlight flooded the room.

Anne did not move.

"Anne, what is wrong?" Marilla asked, coming back to the bed. She reached out and felt Anne's forehead. There was no fever. "Do you have a headache?"

"Yes," Anne lied, because she did not know how to explain what was aching.

* * *

Dr. Carter came in before the day was over.

He still did not know how to help Anne, but came every few days to check on her and provide some sort of encouragement to Matthew and Marilla.

"Hello, Anne," he said with a smile as he sat down.

"Hello," Anne said dully.

Dr. Carter was nice, she thought, but she did not see a point to him coming over.

Everything he had them try had not worked.

He had sent away for some sort of herb Marilla was to put in Anne's tea, but that had not helped.

He had told Marilla to make sure Anne's bathwater was hot, as frequent hot baths were said to be good for anxiety, but that hadn't changed anything for her either.

He had told Marilla that eating legumes could have a calming effect, but Anne did not feel any different when Marilla made her eat them.

Dr. Carter said patients suffering from melancholy benefit most from exercise and pleasant scenery, but Anne could not be made to exercise, and to her the scenery around her was no longer pleasant because being out of doors made her nervous.

Then Dr. Carter had reluctantly told Marilla that many doctors believed the best remedy for melancholy was alcohol, and frequent doses of it. Marilla asked him if he himself believed this to be best, and he told her that he thought she ought to try, as any other method had yet to be successful. Marilla did not approve, until the doctor pointed out that she had saved a few bottles "for medicinal purposes", and this certainly _was_ a medicinal purpose. Dr. Carter recommended it be given at every meal. So Marilla had relented, and asked if it mattered what kind it was- she did not want to give Anne a taste for alcohol; she hesitated to have it be any kind that might taste good to her. Finally she decided to camoflauge the alcohol by pouring it into a glass medicine bottle and telling her it was a new kind of tonic Dr. Carter had recommended, and that it was to be taken in many tablespoons at every meal. At first she worried about Anne becoming intoxicated, but then she began to wonder if she should _hope_ that Anne would become intoxicated, because it would change her mood. She never _told_ Anne she was giving her alcohol, but when it became clear that alcohol three or four times a day was doing nothing for her spirits, Marilla gave up on the experiment with relief.

Today Dr. Carter checked her eyes, ears, nose, and throat as he always did and listened to her heart and lungs. He looked at her arms and was pleased to see that there was no more damage. This accomplished, he asked her how she was feeling.

"I'm better now," she told him, because she thought this _ought_ to be the case.

Marilla smiled at the doctor. Both looked so happy at those three words, that Anne thought she better keep up the charade.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Dr. Carter told her. "When I heard of the Andrews' decision, I thought- _hoped_ , anyway- that it would be the catalyst to bringing you back into the life of the town. You've been cooped up much too long, my dear."

"I know," Anne agreed.

"We almost went into town today," Marilla spoke up. "Only Anne wasn't feeling well in the morning, and then she had a visitor in the afternoon. But we'll go tomorrow. I promised to make a pretty new dress for you, didn't I?"

Anne stared at Marilla. She felt sorry for her. Marilla was trying so hard to make Anne happy. She knew Marilla would not be offering things up like bright colored, ruffled dresses if she had not been so worried about Anne's mood.

"Yes," she said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. "I can't wait."

But that tight feeling came into her throat again, and for a moment she did not know how to breath.

* * *

After Dr. Carter left, Anne said she felt tired and wanted to go to sleep.

"You'll want to be up and about, won't you?" Marilla asked in surprise. "You feel so much better now."

Matthew, who had just come up to see Anne, agreed with Marilla. "You ought not spend your time in bed anymore."

"I'm not," Anne insisted. "I only am right now. Because…because it's a lot to take in. I'm not used to doing anything, so I shouldn't move so fast because…because I need time to get my strength back up."

"Well, that is true…" Marilla began slowly. "After lying around so long, you're probably weaker than you ought to be. All right! Take a nap. But come down for dinner. No more having food brought up to you."

Anne went upstairs and got into bed, but she did not sleep. She lie awake, feeling lost, because she did not understand why she didn't feel any better now that Billy was gone.

And she was worried, too, because Marilla had said she would have to go down for dinner, and she found that she was afraid to leave her room.

* * *

When it was time for dinner, Anne suddenly came down with a fever, and did not want to get out of bed.

"Oh, dear," Marilla said, shaking her head. "Everything's all better now, and then you get sick. Well, stay here, I'll make some soup- do you think you can get that down?"

Anne only nodded.

When Marilla was gone, Anne took the washcloth she'd held tightly around her lamp, and wrapped it around again, waiting for it to again become hot enough to press against her forehead and create the illusion of a fever.

* * *

Anne did not have time to re-create her fever in the morning, because she slept too long. When she awoke, Marilla was in her room, with the curtains pushed apart to open the window.

"I'm glad your fever broke," she said cheerfully when she saw that Anne was awake. "I'm sure you're eager to get back to normal. I was hoping things wouldn't be spoiled by sickness."

Anne smiled back faintly.

"Get washed and dressed and come downstairs for breakfast. Then we'll go into town and get to work on your new dress."

When Marilla left her, Anne threw up.

* * *

It took every bit of effort Anne had to go all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The walk felt like a mile.

She had no desire to eat, but she did not know how to avoid breakfast at the table.

Matthew was so happy to see Anne up and about that he talked to her more than he'd talked in weeks.

Anne should have liked this, but she found it difficult to maintain conversation.

She managed to eat a few bites here and there, but was exceedingly happy when a knock at the door halted their conversation.

"Gilbert!" she cried, more happy about him interrupting her breakfast than she was about actually seeing him.

"Anne!" he said, his smile almost turning to laughter. She was _up_ \- _here_ , in the kitchen, _dressed_ , and that was cause for joy.

She gave him a half-hearted sort of hug.

Marilla called out, "Gilbert, come in and sit down. We're having poached eggs and sausage."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am. It smells delicious. I'm actually on my way to town, though, to pick up some medicine from Dr. Carter. I need to get home to my dad."

"Is he doing poorly again?" Marilla asked worriedly.

"Eh, he's having more good days than bad, but…the bad are worse than they've been. It's hard to say. Each day has been so different."

"Oh, dear," Marilla said. She talked to Gilbert a few minutes, but Anne was only pretending to follow the conversation.

Finally she was pulled out of her thoughts by Gilbert asking, "-so I thought I'd see if Anne wanted to come along."

"Come along for what?" Anne asked, startled. She did not know what they were talking about.

Matthew was looking at her strangely; he was the only one to pick up on the subtle truth that something was not quite right.

She tried to smile cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I got distracted. What were you asking me to do, Gilbert?"

"To come with me when I go into town," he said. "I know it's not anything exciting to do- just picking up some medicine- but I figured you might want to, just because you haven't been out in so long. …But if you _want_ to- if you have time- I thought maybe you could come over and see my dad, too?"

"Ohhh," Anne said, nodding. "Well, I would, but…Marilla and I are going in to town, too, so…"

"Do you want to ride along with Gilbert?" Marilla asked. "I can meet you at the store and we'll do our shopping then. And you could go with him to visit his father afterward."

Anne felt all three of them staring at her, waiting to see what she would choose, and suddenly she could not take the pressure and she burst into tears.

Marilla and Gilbert both reacted in surprise and tried to say something to her, but Matthew's calm presence was what Anne needed. He came over to her and held her close. She pressed her face into his shirt and just tried to breath.

Marilla began to ask, "Anne, whatever is the matter-"

But Matthew stopped her with one look, and led Anne back to the table. As soon as he sat down, she was in his lap, clinging tight to him and crying.

Marilla and Gilbert looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"I- I-" Anne began, but she could not figure out how to say _anything_.

"I'm tired," she finally said, coming back to her default response. "I'm _so_ tired, I can't go _anywhere_ , I need more _sleep_ -"

Matthew knew she did not need sleep, but he did not know _what_ she needed. All he knew was she needed _him_ , and so he stayed with her.

* * *

Gilbert made his trip to town alone, but came back later in the afternoon.

Marilla greeted him at the door.

"How's Anne?" he asked worriedly.

Marilla shook her head.

"I don't understand what happened," Gilbert admitted. "Didn't it seem like she felt better?"

Marilla nodded. "I thought for sure…"

They were quiet, until Marilla smiled in a way meant to comfort his worried countenance, and told him, "I expect it's just a bit too overwhelming- knowing he's gone for good, and she's…well, she's ' _won'_ in a manner of speaking. …Emotion just got the better of her."

Gilbert nodded slowly, hoping that was all it was.

Marilla patted him on the shoulder. "Don't you worry- once it all sinks in, she'll be happy to go out and do things. Why don't you go up and see her?"

"How is she now?" Gilbert asked.

"Well…she's in bed. Again. She's…" Marilla trailed off

Gilbert bit his lip. Then he patted the burlap bag he carried. "I brought a game over. I got it in town. I thought if she wouldn't get out of bed again, I'd see if I could get her to sit up and play. Maybe she'd have fun with it."

"That's a good idea," Marilla said, feeling hopeful. "Thank you, Gilbert. Run on up now, I know she's awake."

Marilla came up in a little while, carrying a tray. She thought while Gilbert and Anne were playing that they might like a snack of cheese and crackers.

She was surprised at what she walked in on.

"Gilbert, may I see you for a moment?"

There was a sharp edge to her voice, and Gilbert suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was sitting on Anne's bed. He got up quickly.

"Bring the cards, please," Marilla said, turning on her heel and leaving. She had forgotten to set the tray down and took it with her.

Gilbert looked back and forth from Anne in her bed to Miss Cuthbert disappearing down the stairs. He gathered up the cards- even taking the ones Anne was holding in her hand- and left the room. He arrived at the bottom of the stairs feeling unsettled.

Marilla was waiting. She realized she was still holding the tray, and with an exasperated sigh, she looked to set it down.

"Here," Gilbert said, pushing the cards into his pocket quickly and reaching out for the tray. "I can take it. Do you want me to run it up now, or…?"

"Hold on just a moment."

"Miss Cuthbert, I shouldn't have been on her bed. I wasn't thinking of it as being a _bed_ , I was just thinking of it as a place to _sit_ , and-"

"What?" Marilla looked confused. Her expression made Gilbert realize that sitting on Anne's bed had not even been noticed, and he wondered what else he had done. She had told him to bring the cards…

"Gilbert, I must say I'm surprised at you."

He must have looked puzzled, because she prompted, gesturing toward his pocket, "The cards."

He shifted the tray to one hand and reached into his pocket to pull them out again. "These?" He still did not know what the problem was.

"Playing cards, Gilbert. It's a wicked pastime. I wouldn't think a God-fearing, Bible-believing young man would engage in such a thing."

"I…don't remember cards being _mentioned_ in the Bible," Gilbert said faintly, caught off guard.

Marilla gave him a sharp look.

"I didn't mean that to sound like impertinence, ma'am. I just didn't remember…"

Marilla sighed, looking troubled. "Well, truthfully, I don't either. But the Reverend preached a whole sermon on the wickedness of allowing decks of playing cards into your home. Surely you remember that."

"I must have been out that week," Gilbert said. "I don't always make it in to church. You know, because of my dad."

Marilla's eyes softened. She said, "I'm sorry. I see it wasn't intentional."

"…I know people use cards for gambling, but _we_ weren't gambling, Miss Cuthbert. Really."

"I'm sure not, but it doesn't matter what you were doing with them. I remember years ago getting this pamphlet…" Marilla said, walking over to the cabinet.

"Here it is," she said, finally finding it. "Take this up to her, please. Tell her I want her to read it. I won't go up and tell her myself- she and I seem to be on the outs since this morning! I suppose I pushed her too hard. …You would do well to read it, too- you don't want to fall into sin without even realizing it."

Gilbert was still holding the tray and his cards, and could not take the pamphlet, so Marilla lay it on the tray. Gilbert waited- he didn't know if he was supposed to go back up now, or if he was still being lectured to.

"I hope it's not too late- I'd hate to think it affected her already. …I want her to cheer up, of course, but not at the expense of her virtue!"

Gilbert said again, "I really _am_ sorry…"

Marilla was worried. First she herself had given Anne alcohol, and now Gilbert had given her cards. She tried to pray for divine guidance.

"Did she seem to _like_ playing cards?" she asked worriedly.

"No, she didn't like it, Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert said sadly. "...I don't think she likes anything anymore."

* * *

When Gilbert came back in the room, Anne hadn't moved.

He set the tray down over her lap. He realized his deck of cards were still on the tray and he pushed them off to the side. "We have a nice snack to eat, don't we? I love this kind of cheese. My dad said when I was little I called it 'moon cheese', because it's round like the moon. It's his own doing, really- he told me the moon was made of cheese. Whenever we had this, he'd tell me he'd special ordered it and that he had to buy one hundred postage stamps to have it sent all the way from the moon. And I believed him."

He smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. "Why did you take the cards away? What happened? Marilla seemed angry."

"Oh, no," Gilbert said good-naturedly. "She wasn't mad. Not at all. She was just worried."

"What about?"

"Well," he began, "She didn't think playing cards was a good idea."

"Why not?" Anne asked, looking like a deflated balloon.

"Uh- she wanted you to read this."

Anne looked as though all the energy in her was gone- not that there had been much to start with. She did not reach for the pamphlet. "I don't want to read it. Can't you just tell me what it says?"

"Um. Sure," Gilbert said slowly, opening the pamphlet. "Card Playing. By Reverend A.A. Alexander, D.D. Canton, Mississippi; Richmond, Virginia: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1892. The apostle's injunction, 'Be not conformed to this world,' is but little thought upon in this day. Its vital significance to the Christian is not duly appreciated. The 'world' means the evil and unregenerate ways of human society that neither in principle nor in practice accord with the obligations of-"

"Gilbert," Anne interrupted, sounding thoroughly put out.

"Yes?"

" _Summarize._ "

"All right," he said. "Miss Cuthbert wants you to read the whole thing, though, so you'll have to get around to it at some point, I suppose."

"Fine, when you're finished you can put it over there with my needlepoint and my math book and all the other things I'm supposed to be doing." She still sounded angry.

"Do you want to have a bite to eat while I look over this?" Gilbert asked, trying without much success to sound uplifting and cheerful.

Anne broke a cracker in half and ate it. Then she said, "Well, go on."

"Let's see. Okay, the Reverend finally gets around to the point. 'They first play for amusement, unconscious of the danger they are inviting.'"

"Inviting danger?" Anne asked, frowning. "We weren't holding a séance!"

"Cards are hopelessly linked with evil associations. That's coming from this, not from me," he clarified. "The Reverend says that if you get a taste for playing cards, you won't feel comfortable going to church."

"I don't already," Anne commented.

Gilbert reached out for her hand, and squeezed it. "I'm sorry Miss Cuthbert wants you to read this. I don't think playing a game is going to tarnish your soul. But she's in charge, not me. …At least I've told you enough that you can pretend to have read it yourself?"

"No, I can't pretend to have read it myself- I still don't understand why I can't play."

He scanned the document. "Well, it says that if you play cards…you might _like_ it."

Neither said anything for a moment, the nothingness of that statement hanging in the air.

"Well, what happens if you _like_ it?" Anne asked with a sigh.

Gilbert frowned. "It doesn't say… Oh- here it is. Okay, so the Reverend says that 'games of chance' don't mix well with having a true belief that everything is controlled by God."

"I used to think that everything being controlled by God could be comforting. I don't think that anymore," Anne said quietly. "Maybe sometimes things _are_ just up to chance. Because it's too awful to think God is controlling everything if He lets bad things happen."

Gilbert set the pamphlet down on the bed. He was going to try to talk to Anne about what had happened- although he didn't quite know what to say- but instead, Anne picked up the pamphlet herself and looked at it.

"You can't play cards because it lowers your spirituality, your usefulness, and your purity. You're supposed to remain 'unspotted'. It leads to ruin." She dropped back onto her pillow. "But I'm already ruined, aren't I?"

" _Anne-"_

Anne turned her back to him, pulling the covers up around her. "Go away," came her muffled voice.

He left.

* * *

Marilla came in later, after Gilbert had gone, and sat down on Anne's bed.

"Anne," she said kindly. "What's upsetting you? I was sure you'd feel better now, and I'm worried for you."

Anne did not respond.

Marilla tried again. "I thought now that you _know_ you won't see Billy anymore, that you'd be able to get up and be out more. You could go back to _school_ …"

Anne sighed heavily. She would not look at Marilla.

"But you still seem so upset. What can we do for you, dear?"

Marilla did not often say things like _dear_ , and when she did, it filled Anne with a strange sort of ache that started in her chest and settled itself in the back of her throat. But the time she most needed to hear the word was also the time she was least likely to respond to it. All she wanted was to be left alone.

But Marilla would not leave her, and sat, instead, by Anne's side, rubbing her back and murmuring comforting things that Anne was not listening to.

Finally Anne broke into Marilla's speech, with a sudden outburst of:

"I can't go into town. Or school. Or church. Or anywhere. Everybody _knows_."

"Yes…"

"Well, I didn't think of that before. Everyone was staring at me and whispering because they thought I was a…a trollop."

"Anne, don't say such words," Marilla scolded.

"But it's true. That's what they thought."

"They don't anymore, though," Marilla told her.

"Yes, but don't you _see?_ They're _still_ going to stare at me and whisper! Only now it'll be because they know what _happened_ to me," Anne said, beginning to cry.

"I wish nobody would pay attention to me _at all,"_ she continued miserably. "I wish nobody knew anything, true or untrue. I should have tried harder to keep this all from getting out."

"You were trying plenty, darling," Marilla said kindly. "And I'm very glad it didn't work. You shouldn't have been carrying that alone."

"Carrying it alone is better than everyone knowing!" Anne insisted. "I should never have told Gilbert. Then _he_ couldn't have told _you_. And _you_ couldn't have gone to the Andrews, and the Andrews would never have known because Billy wouldn't have told them. And if _Gilbert_ hadn't talked to Billy about it, then _Jane_ wouldn't have overhead. And if _I_ hadn't talked to Gilbert about it, then Ruby never would have been able to tell Josie…"

"Anne, Anne," Marilla interrupted. "Think of if it _hadn't._ You'd have been even worse! You'd have to go to school alongside him, and you'd keep getting more and more upset every day."

Anne stared down at her arms and sighed. She knew Marilla was right. At least this way Billy was gone. But how could she face people again?

"You said you never told Gilbert- he figured it out on his own. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Anne whispered. "But I _could_ have told him he was _wrong_. Or just not talked to him at all! I should have been meaner to him. Maybe then he would have left me alone instead of spending that whole day with me."

"And then you wouldn't have him _now_ ," Marilla pointed out. "Maybe the two of you would never have become such good…friends."

Anne bit her lip. She could _not_ wish that she had sent Gilbert on his way that day so long ago. But…

"But I still have to be here in this town where everyone can look at me and know what I went through," she said softly. "It's just so _embarrassing_."

Marilla's approach was practical: "They were going to talk about you either way, Anne, it's better for them to talk about the truth, not lies."

Anne knew that this was true, and logical.

But it didn't make it any easier.


	224. The Darkness Before the Dawn

This chapter is rough, Anne _attempts_ to harm herself (but I decided to have them stop her before she starts). This is the only chapter she will do this, so it won't come up again.

I debated whether I should include this at all….I feel in one way like it's so…taboo. And I don't to trigger anyone. But I am writing my story in this story and I have done some bad things in trying to cope with it alone.

I got the ways to help me from going to therapy. I know Gilbert isn't a therapist, but I want Anne to learn to control those difficult thoughts and since Anne isn't going to a therapist I thought maybe Gilbert could be the one to think of some things that would help her.

I am not actually going to have Anne really _do_ it, so that it is a bit less triggering- they'll come in and stop her before she can. But please, please just skip this one if there is any chance it could be triggering to you.

By the way there are- I THINK- less than 5 chapters left. I can't say exactly because there are two I'm considering splitting up. But it will probably be 5 or less, now.

* * *

Marilla had gone over and over the books she had- and the ones she had borrowed from Dr. Carter- but most of them had only a brief snippet- at most, a paragraph or two- about how to treat melancholy. Right now, she was looking at Madame Young's Guide to Health: her experience and practice for nearly forty years. Marilla sighed and closed the book, thinking that Amelia Young didn't know much about it at all. Melancholy had exactly one word in the entire text.

She wondered if there were any books written _solely_ about conditions of the mind: melancholy, nervousness, and the like. Then she'd have more to read than just a paragraph here and there.

Then a new thought occurred to her: perhaps there were even books about how to cope with an assault like this. She began to feel hopeful at the thought that there was some book, somewhere, that could guide her through mothering a girl who'd been violated. Because Marilla desperately needed some sort of guidance.

Avonlea had no library, but Charlottetown did. Maybe the Charlottetown library would have such a book…then she remembered that the library was also willing to order in books for people- they had a big catalog they used to purchase their collection, but they also let patrons go through it and the library would send away for them. So even if the library did not carry anything she could borrow, their catalog might have something she could purchase. She decided to ask Matthew if he minded the drive, but she knew he wouldn't. Anything to help his dear girl.

Matthew was, of course, willing, and they asked Rachel Lynde to come stay with Anne while they were out. Matthew _had_ asked Anne if she would like to drive in to Charlottetown with them- a chance to get out into the world but away from Avonlea- but Anne refused to leave her room.

Marilla did not let this get her down. She felt sure she would soon find a book that would fix everything.

So Rachel Lynde came over, but Anne would not get out of bed. "Don't you worry about a thing, Marilla," Rachel said with the confidence of one who has raised ten children and dealt with them through all their ups and downs.

* * *

After a brief discussion, Matthew and Marilla stopped at the bank before making the drive to Charlottetown. They did not need to use Anne's money to buy a book, but Marilla said "If there are _ten_ books, I'll buy them _all_ ", and withdrew some extra money just in case. And Matthew agreed; neither of them were willing to choose a book, go home, hope it worked, and then come back to try another.

They'd put the money back into Anne's account later. She would not know it was gone, because she did not know that it existed in the first place. Anne knew, of course, that the Andrews had set up a bank account for her, but when they learned there wouldn't be a baby coming after all, Anne assumed they'd taken their money back. And she was glad, because she did not want it. Matthew and Marilla never told Anne that Mrs. Andrews insisted she keep the money.

If they told her she still had her own bank account, they'd have to tell her _why_. And the 'why' of it was Mrs. Andrews' concern that Anne would not be able to find gainful employment, thereby losing all ability to support herself in her future.

* * *

Rachel Lynde thought a little tough love was all Anne needed. Now that the problem was solved- Billy _was_ gone, after all- Anne needed to get up and go back to school. And she just needed someone to give her a good, strong _push_ to do that.

"I've heard enough tantrums in my lifetime, but you do corner the market, don't you?" Rachel commented, undisturbed when Anne resisted her prodding by yelling at her. "Come now, get up and dressed. Why don't we bake a cake as a surprise for Matthew and Marilla when they come home from Charlottetown?"

"I can't bake a cake," Anne said. "I don't know how."

"I'll teach you, then," Rachel said patiently. "You'll like it. And you can lick the spoon after we've frosted it."

"I don't _want_ to eat the frosting," Anne said hopelessly, wishing Matthew and Marilla hadn't thought she needed a babysitter. She wanted Mrs. Lynde to leave her alone. She dropped her head into her arms and tried to shut Mrs. Lynde out.

Now Rachel put on a sterner expression. "Anne, _you cannot carry on this way!"_

Anne thought this was the first sensible thing Mrs. Lynde had said. "You're right," she agreed. "I can't."

 _I cannot carry on this way_. And Anne began to think about how heavy a load she was carrying, and how she could not set it down. And as long as she lived, she would _never_ be able to set it down.

Rachel decided that if Anne was able to focus on _other_ people instead of dwelling on her own problems, she would feel a lot better.

"Marilla's doing everything herself now," Rachel began, hoping to push her into action. "She ought to have some assistance from you, but you haven't done a thing to help her. If you think about _her_ , Anne, you'll be able to function. That's what you must do- think of others! Don't wallow in pity thinking only of yourself."

But this made Anne feel worse than ever. Mrs. Lynde was right. She should be thinking of others. But she couldn't, because it took everything out of her just to keep breathing. Having other people to worry about was beyond her ability to carry.

She began to think about how terrible she was being to Marilla, but she couldn't _bring_ herself to do anything about it…she began to dig into her arm with her fingernails.

And as she sat there, thinking, she felt she had reached her limit on what she could cope with, and the pain she felt was so deep that only something drastic would alleviate it…she had to be manipulative to get Rachel to leave her.

She said she'd like to bake a cake for Marilla and Matthew after all, and would Mrs. Lynde please step out so she could get dressed?

Anne pushed her dresser in front of her bedroom door as soon as Mrs. Lynde was outside of it.

"Anne? Anne, what on earth are you doing? Open this door at once!" Rachel tried to open the door, but could not.

A knock at the door prompted Rachel to leave Anne. "You have this door open by the time I come back, Anne, do you hear me?"

Rachel went down to see who it was.

"Oh, Gilbert," she panted. "What a relief. Perhaps you can talk some sense into Anne."

"What happened?" Gilbert said quickly, his face changing to concern.

"Well, she's having a bit of a fit. She shut herself up in her room and pushed something in front of the door. She was angry with me for trying to make her get up and be productive."

But Anne had not shut Rachel out because she was angry with her.

Anne had shut Rachel out because without privacy she could not do what she knew would make her feel better.

Gilbert came into the house, up the stairs, and pushed on the door.

"Anne?" he asked, concerned. "Anne, can you open the door? It's me, Gilbert."

Of course he did not need to tell her who it was, but she would not have responded either way.

"Anne?" he called again. He shook the doorknob.

Finally Gilbert decided to try throwing all his weight against the door, hoping to dislodge whatever Anne had pushed against it.

It worked.

And there he found Anne, on the floor, her mattress shoved off her bed because she needed to retrieve something she'd hidden underneath it. A long, jagged shard of glass was poised against her slender white wrist.

"Anne, what are you doing?" Gilbert asked, paling.

Rachel got a handkerchief from Anne's bedside table and, after taking the glass from Anne's shaking hand, she wrapped it up and tucked it into her apron pocket. "Where did you get this, Anne?" she asked, her voice shaking. She was looking around for anything that might be broken, but nothing was amiss in her room.

"I found it," Anne said, her voice hollow. "When Marilla dropped a mirror, weeks ago, and she cleaned it up…I took a piece from the bin."

Mrs. Lynde and Gilbert stared at her.

"Weeks ago?" Mrs. Lynde asked.

"Anne, you were just…saving it?" Gilbert felt sick.

Suddenly Anne looked up at them, desperate. "Let me have it back. Don't tell Marilla or Matthew. I _need_ it. Please-"

Rachel and Gilbert were flabbergasted. She didn't honestly think they would just let her harm herself…?

Gilbert gently took Anne's arm and looked it over, hoping she hadn't had a chance to do anything yet.

Almost the moment he let go, she pulled her arm away and dug her nails into her skin. Gilbert was frightened by the way her eyes were scanning her bedroom as if searching for something else that would make her feel better. Her eyes quickly settled on her hairbrush nearby, and she grabbed it, beginning to pull the bristles out of it.

Gilbert did not know what she planned to do with the bristles, but he crouched down in front of her, and took the brush away from her.

She started to cry- he was _not_ helping her, he was making it _worse_ …she knew what she needed to make herself feel better, and Gilbert- horrible, hateful Gilbert- was taking away what she _needed_.

Gilbert handed the hairbrush over to Mrs. Lynde and began picking up the few bristles Anne had managed to pull out. He turned back to Mrs. Lynde, who was shocked into horrified silence, and said quietly: "I think the Cuthberts need to come home. Right now."

Rachel could not even speak. She turned quickly and left. Someone would have to be sent out onto the road to meet Matthew and Marilla- or even go into Charlottetown if need be. Matthew and Marilla needed to come home.

Gilbert said softly, his hand outstretched, touching her face, "Anne, darling, why do insist on hurting yourself?"

"I don't _know_ ," Anne said, breaking into tears. As soon as they came, she immediately started digging her fingernails into the soft, white skin of her arm. He saw the faded marks of times gone by, and he felt like crying himself. He sat down behind her and drew her to him, pulling her backward so the back of her head was resting against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her in the front- not really out of comfort, but as a way to hold her from any further damage.

"Go away," Anne moaned. "I don't want you here."

He ignored her words and sat, still holding her. She did not fight him, though she was shaking.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you," he said. "And that includes you."

He thought about trying to get her back into bed, but then thought if he did, she might never get up. But she was just in her nightgown, and she was cold, and they were sitting on the hard wood floor. After a few minutes he said, "I'm getting your blanket. Don't try to get up."

He reached to the side, leaning as far as he could to try to grab the corner of her quilt. Once he caught it, he pulled. It finally slid off the mattress, bringing part of the sheet with it, and causing books she had stacked on her floor to fall over and land with a thud.

Once he had it, he briefly let go of Anne, but she did not move though she had the chance to. She was still shaking. Gilbert wrapped the quilt around her.

"Leave me alone," Anne said, starting to cry again.

Gilbert did not say anything to her, he just sat, holding her, and wondered how long they would sit there. Anne was not trying to get away from him, at least.

"I don't understand, Anne. Why do you want to hurt yourself? How could that possibly make anything _better?"_ Gilbert asked painfully.

Anne whispered, "I don't know. I can't carry this around, Gilbert. And when I do that, it just…lets something out…"

Gilbert asked. "But you're making it worse instead of better, love. Hurting yourself can't help you."

"But it _does_ ," Anne told him, starting to cry again. "I don't know why."

He did not know what to say.

"What brought this on?" he asked finally. "You'd been hiding that bit of glass for weeks...what made you want to use it? Have you used it _before?_ You _must_ have, your arms have old scratches on them…"

"Mrs. Lynde said I was being selfish and I should be helping Marilla more, she said I'm just wallowing in pity for myself. I don't _mean_ to be unhelpful, I _know_ I'm a _burden_ to them…"

"You're not a burden. They don't think of you as a burden-"

"Yes, I am!" Anne broke off, tears coming fresh.

"No, no, no," Gilbert said quietly, holding her close, and feeling angry at Mrs. Lynde. Anne did not need to be made to feel guilty. She just needed _help…_

Unfortunately, no one knew how to help her.

They sat there for nearly an hour. Anne didn't say anything else. Gilbert eventually shifted a bit from where he sat, so he could see the clock to know how much time had passed by. She'd stopped crying long ago, and just lay against him, listless, having lost the will to try to get anyone to leave her alone.

When the Cuthberts finally arrived, he could hear them rushing up the stairs, and felt relief that they were there, because he did not know what to do for Anne- the only thing he knew to do was stop her in the moment and prevent it. He did not know what to do beyond that.

Matthew and Marilla stopped in their tracks upon entering Anne's room. Gilbert, on the floor, holding Anne, looked up at them. "Anne, look, your family is here," he told her. She started to cry again.

"I don't think I can let go," Gilbert said, "Unless one of you can take her?"

Matthew leaned down and reached for Anne, picking her up. He sat on her chair, the quilt still wrapped around her. He said nothing, but closed his eyes and held her close.

Gilbert told Marilla, "We caught her with a couple of things. I'll tell you about them downstairs," he said, not wanting Anne to listen to the details of what she had planned to do in case it would stir up interest in her.

"I hope you don't think I was overreacting, sitting there like that, but I was afraid to let go."

Marilla's face was white. She thought overreacting was the last thing Gilbert was doing. She looked at Anne, who seemed to be in her own world, and she wondered how they would ever bring her back.

* * *

Downstairs, Gilbert showed Marilla the piece of jagged glass Anne had been hiding under her mattress, and the brush with the bristles pulled out.

"She'd been saving it."

Gilbert stopped talking, seeing Miss Cuthbert's face turning a sickly gray.

"What brought it on?" she finally asked.

"Uh…she said Mrs. Lynde was making her feel guilty…telling her she'd been a burden to you all…"

* * *

With Matthew staying with Anne- he'd sent Gilbert home- Marilla was free to go tell Rachel what she thought of her methods.

The noise was able to be heard outside the house when Marilla told Rachel she had made everything worse for them and she could consider herself unwelcome at Green Gables.

Rachel shouted back saying "I was trying to help you, Marilla! And you ought to appreciate some help, because you're certainly going nowhere fast! You're letting her waste away. If you had been firmer with her from the get-go, she wouldn't have gotten to this point! I've raised ten children and I've never had one go all wrong in the head!"

Marilla was incensed. "And were any of _those_ ten children ever intimately violated, Rachel? No, they weren't, were they? You shouldn't be so quick to cast stones. You may have all the parenting experience in the world, but you have no _idea_ when it comes to what _we're_ going through!"

* * *

Marilla came back into her own house huffy with indignation, and Matthew, concerned, left Anne for a moment to see what was the matter with Marilla.

Marilla gave him the rundown of what she and Rachel had fought about- quite loudly- as she stormed back and forth, pacing the kitchen floor. Matthew was silent.

Anne overheard them, and after a moment they heard a noise from upstairs. Matthew and Marilla stared at each other a brief second, realizing she'd been left alone.

They rushed up the stairs, but Anne was not hurting herself, the noise had simply been her flopping herself down onto her bed. She was crying.

"Anne, Anne," Marilla said, reaching for her.

"You should send me away," Anne cried. "I'm making your lives worse!"

Matthew sat down by her. "You've made our lives worth living," he said quietly, stroking her hot head.

Marilla was quick to agree. "I didn't expect to have you, Anne, but now- why, I couldn't get along without you. You don't really think we'd want you to go away, do you?"

"If I wasn't here, you wouldn't have quarreled with your bosom friend," Anne said mournfully.

"If you weren't here, we'd have quarreled over something else," Marilla said, shaking her head.

"But a bosom friend is one of the most important things in life," Anne argued, but then she burst into fresh tears.

"Anne, what is it?" Marilla asked, leaning in to hold her.

"I miss _Diana_ ," she said, crying.

Marilla felt sorry for her, going through this difficult time without having the comfort of her best friend.

"Josie's retracted her story. Diana's mother has heard the news, and she'll soon realize you're not the sort of girl she thought you were," Marilla said comfortingly. "People are coming around, Anne."

"Diana will be over here before you know it," Matthew agreed quietly.

"No, she won't!" Anne burst out. "She'll never be my friend again!"

"She writes you letters, doesn't she? And Gilbert brings them to you," Marilla said, rubbing Anne's back.

Anne nodded, trying to stop crying.

"And you have Gilbert, too, and he's kind of been a best friend to you, hasn't he?" Marilla said calmly, still rubbing Anne's back.

"We're going to get married," she said, snuffling, her wet nose dripping onto her pillow.

Marilla and Matthew looked at each other in surprise.

"Oh, are you?" Marilla asked. She did not want to say anything to upset Anne further, so she tried to sound neutral.

But Anne didn't say anything else.

If Anne were well, Marilla would have been alarmed at Anne making such an announcement about a boy at her age, and she would have been very stern with the both of them about boundaries.

But with Anne feeling so depressed, she was happy to latch on to anything Anne said that involved having a _future_.

"Why don't you tell me about what kind of wedding you want to have. What kind of flowers, Anne?"

Anne lay there for a moment before she answered, "Roses."

"What color roses?" Marilla asked.

"Pink ones," she said softly.

"That will be pretty. What do you want your dress to look like?"

"I want Chantilly lace. And eyelet. And puffed sleeves. And it should be white, unless I can't wear a white dress, and then maybe it could be ivory."

Matthew told her, "You can have a white dress. You can have anything you want."

Anne lay still for a while.

Marilla continued talking, gentle and quiet. "What should we serve at the reception?"

But Anne shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. "I'm not getting married."

"Of course you are. You have it all planned out. We'll get your dress ready, and-"

Anne's tears rolled down.

"What is it, Anne?" Marilla asked, starting to rub her back again.

"Everything's awful. I want to _die_ ," she cried.

Matthew and Marilla were alarmed. They figured as much, but as of yet Anne had never before stated it explicitly.

Marilla tried to sound reasonable and stated calmly: "But if you die, you won't be able to get married- you won't _get_ to have the pretty dress and roses you talked about."

"I can have a dress and roses at a funeral," Anne whispered so softly that they could barely hear her.

Marilla moved Anne right then, pulling her toward her and holding her. Anne's face was pressed against Marilla's chest, and she could hear Marilla's heart beating. She closed her eyes.

"If you have them at a funeral, you won't get to enjoy them," Marilla said, tears coming to her and trying to hold them back.

"I'll enjoy things where I am."

Marilla slept in Anne's room that night.

* * *

Although it wasn't good for Matthew's back to be picking Anne up and carrying her around, once he did it, he didn't see any reason not to do it again, and he brought her downstairs and put her on the sofa.

Anne did not want to be there, but she did not yell at Matthew the way she would have yelled at anyone else.

He sat on the sofa with her for a long time, and when he tried to get up, she clung tight and would not be separated from him.

After she'd been downstairs for a little while, he took her back up. Anne slept as if she'd been on a journey instead of simply being carried from one room to another.

* * *

Because of what Anne said about dying, she was never alone, not even for a moment.

Marilla stayed with her all the time while Matthew worked, and when Marilla needed time to do anything in the house or for herself, she had to wait for Matthew to come in to take her place at Anne's side.

Gilbert was a frequent visitor, of course, and gave them both a respite.

When Gilbert arrived the next day, he came in with their key, and Marilla called down to him to say hello and ask if he could get Anne's sewing and bring it up with him. Anne noticed that Gilbert did not ask where the sewing was, but brought it up with him anyway. Marilla must have told him where she had hidden it. As they made their transfer, Anne could hear Marilla telling Gilbert that he must sit right by Anne's side while she used the scissors and needle. Anne was angry that no one trusted her.

"You know where she keeps my sewing, Gilbert?" Anne asked after Marilla had gone back downstairs.

"Yes, Miss Cuthbert told me," he answered.

"Where does she keep it?" Anne asked, thinking that Gilbert ought to be on her side instead of Marilla's.

He didn't answer her at first.

"Where does she keep it, Gilbert?" she asked again.

He hesitated, then looked at her and shook his head regretfully.

She stared at him. "You're not going to tell me," she finally said, her voice flat.

He bit his lip. "No, love," he said, reaching out and touching his palm to her cheek, hoping the loving gesture and word would offset the appearance of betrayal.

Anne did not want to sew, now. She ignored the basket, and Gilbert, and turned away from him. Gilbert did not know what to do.

"Anne," he said to the ball of quilt next to him. All he could see were her arms- none of them let Anne sleep with her arms hidden underneath her quilt- "Anne," he said again.

"What?" she asked grumpily.

"Good, you're still talking to me," he said. "Can you sit up? Come on, sit up," he prompted as he pulled the quilt back and nudged her into sitting up.

"I'm going to open the window. It's nice enough now. It's a bit windy, but it's still nice. Warm weather will be here before you know it. Let's get some fresh air in here, eh?"

She didn't say anything. He told her, "I'm going to open the window."

Not wanting to leave the basket on the bed with Anne, he took it with him to the window. He opened the window just a small amount, turning to keep Anne in his sight as he did.

Then he came back to the bed and sat down with her again. He pulled her quilt around her, saying, "You're not used to the outside air. I don't want you to get chilly. Now, do you smell that? Close your eyes. What is it?"

"Cows," she said, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

Gilbert laughed. "There are cows, but that's not what I meant. Keep breathing in that good fresh air and tell me when you smell something different."

"Cherry blossoms," Anne finally said.

Gilbert did not think she could really smell cherry blossoms. The weather was changing, but it was too early for her tree to bloom. …But if she imagined smelling cherry blossoms, that was fine with him.

Gilbert was glad it was getting warmer. Anne had been cooped up without any fresh air for too long, and though he doubted it had done anything, it was just the first step in what he was thinking might help her.

The next day, he brought a bag with him and put it on Anne's bed.

"I want you to try something," he spoke up. "I think it might help."

"Whatever it is, it won't work," was Anne's flat reply.

"You don't have to expect it to work, but at least _try_ it. All right? It's about trying to be in control of your thoughts instead of letting them control you."

"I don't know what that means," Anne said glumly.

"Well…like, _strategies_."

"Strategies?"

"Yeah. For when you have a bad thought come in. Maybe we can't get _rid_ of the bad thoughts-"

"No, we can't," Anne cut in.

"-But we can find a way to put them on hold for just a moment, so you have a chance to get the upperhand on them _before_ they overwhelm you."

"How can I do that?" Anne said, sounding hopeless.

"Have you ever heard people stop and count to ten when they're angry?"

"Sure."

"Things like that."

"You think if I count to ten, everything will fix itself?" Anne asked, sounding on the edge of anger.

"No, I don't. But counting to ten can slow you down. And…I made a list of ideas. But you have to give me a chance. Will you at least try?"

"…All right."

" _Tools_ ," he told her as he emptied the bag. "Here's a candle."

"I see that. Am I supposed to light it?"

"No," he shook his head. "And no one is giving you matches, so don't ask. Feel the wax on the candle. I lit it yesterday and let the wax run down for a while so it's soft. Dig your nails into it."

Anne looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Go on," he prodded. "Dig your nails in and see how it feels. We need to find other ways for you to get that stuff out, not ways where you're hurting yourself."

Anne reluctantly dug her nails in and scraped them. Bits of wax came off in slivers, and more wax was under her fingernails. …It _was_ strangely satisfying. She scraped her nails down the side of it and then dug in even harder.

"Now," he said, picking up a small envelope. "Smell this."

"It smells good. What is it?" she asked after opening it.

"A sachet of wild rose petals."

"What's it for?"

"For smelling," Gilbert asked. "Like when you feel overwhelmed, you should stop and close your eyes and smell it. Breathe it in for a few minutes. It might be relaxing. Or at least, doing it will give you a minute before you can decide to do something else."

"I don't see how any of this is going to change anything. What's _this_ for?" she asked, poking at a large sponge.

"For squeezing. When you feel stress."

Anne did not see how any of that would help her. But she felt guilty that Gilbert loved her even though she was a mess, and so she tried to pretend that she thought his ideas were good.

* * *

There would always be some people in Avonlea who thought Anne was corrupt. But they were becoming fewer and fewer as word spread.

And once most of the town knew and believed her, people began trying to cheer her up.

One day a bouquet of yellow roses arrived with a card that read _Morgan Ryland, Attorney-at-Law_.

"Well, he's passed the bar. Good for him. Look, he wrote us a letter." Marilla scanned the page and smiled. "He says his first position is working with a politician who's trying to push a bill through that would change the way victims of assault are treated in court. What a good thing he's doing. Listen to this: _I don't think I'd have thought so much about the rights of ladies and the legal protections they should have, if you hadn't come to me with your daughter's predicament. That stayed with me and prompted me to do all I can to make changes, in hopes of someday making things better for women. I do hope Anne is feeling better. I know flowers won't fix anything, but I hope I can brighten her up, even just for a moment_. …Isn't that nice, Anne? To know you've prompted someone to try to make changes in the law? And to be sent flowers, too."

Anne thought Morgan Ryland was absolutely right when he said flowers wouldn't fix anything.

But she took the roses to bed with her, and when Marilla looked in on her, Anne had the bouquet lying on her pillow, under her head, the flowers pressed against her face.

* * *

Mrs. Lynde was trying to cheer her, too, bringing fudge over almost weekly. She had made up after her spat with Marilla, and because Anne felt so mournful of causing a rift between two bosom friends, Marilla accepted Rachel's apology immediately and apologized right back.

Mrs. Gillis let Ruby come over to visit, though Anne refused to see her. Ruby came another day, too, this time with Tillie. The two girls brought Anne scones they'd made- "almost all by ourselves"- and left them in a basket with a very nice note that Anne would have been touched by, had she read it.

The Pye's came over- the whole lot of them- surprising everyone. Josie was most contrite and brought a big blue satin hair ribbon and a lace handkerchief that had been her very best, and gave them to Marilla, saying she wanted Anne to have them- "with most sincere an apology". Marilla later told Anne, "She looked awfully sorry; she could scarcely look me in the eye."

Diana's mother came to tell Marilla that Anne was welcome to come over and visit any time she wanted to, and that if she'd like to stay overnight and have a sleepover with Diana, she'd put them up in the spare room. Minnie May, who did not understand what was happening, knew only that Anne was very sad, and brought her a book of jokes, in the hopes of cheering her up.

One day Emily and her husband Arnold came to visit Anne, bringing Clara with them, and Marilla insisted Anne receive them, believing that the baby might cheer Anne. But holding the baby only made Anne cry.

Emily just let Anne hold Clara, crying, for a moment, but then she took Clara back and passed her to Arnold, who took her downstairs and chatted with Marilla, and Emily took Clara's place.

Anne fell readily into Emily's arms, and cried. Emily said nothing, only holding her close. When Anne finally calmed down, Emily thought they'd be able to talk, but they did not- as soon as Anne was calm, she rolled over to face the wall, and told Emily she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. Emily felt rather helpless, but promised to come again.

* * *

The days blended one into another.

Gilbert brought her a card and a box, which she never opened. They sat untouched for two weeks until Marilla finally took the card out of its envelope and handed it to her.

Anne looked with little interest at the card he'd walked over to Green Gables to give her. It was a heart he'd cut out of white paper, decorated only with a pink ribbon tied to the top. Anne recognized the ribbon as being one of Diana's. She must have given it to Gilbert to use.

Gilbert had written a message on the heart, but Anne did not read it. Her only thought- and an absent minded thought at that- was that her birthday must have come and gone. She did not even know it was March.

* * *

Sometimes Anne slept, and did not realize how much time had passed by while she was sleeping. Sometimes she could not sleep at all and was awake for two or three days, moving catonically or just sitting in her bed in the dark- not reading, not anything- just sitting.

She would not see anyone. Diana, who was allowed to come over, was turned away at the door, with Marilla apologizing and telling her that it wasn't anything that could be helped.

Even Gilbert was not allowed in to see her.

But one day Gilbert was there at the door, despite Anne's protests. He carried a quilt in his arms.

"Gilbert brought this for you, Anne," Marilla announced. "Isn't that nice?"

"I already have a quilt," Anne said dully.

Gilbert looked at Marilla, who patted him on the shoulder and left him alone with Anne.

Gilbert came into the room and sat down next to her- not in the chair, but right on the bed with her.

He began, "My dad-" and Anne's eyes were filled already- "My dad misses you, Anne …He's never going to be in good health, but he says he feels stronger now, because of you. He wishes he were able to get out and come see you. He said-"

He stopped a moment when a tear escaped Anne's eye. He reached out and wiped it away, his hand brushing her cheek gently. "He said that he was hoping…because you always filled him up with magic, that maybe he could do the same for you?"

He didn't say anything a moment, then continued: "He still has the magic you left him. And if he could come and visit you, he'd give you a hug and maybe that way some of the magic you gave him would be poured right back into you."

"But since he can't, he wanted me to bring you this quilt. He said if you wrap it around you, it'll be his hug."

The expression on her face was a mixture of love and pain.

"Can I give you his hug, Anne?"

She nodded quickly, not sure she could speak without breaking.

Gilbert picked up the quilt, and gently brought it around her, enveloping her in its softness. When his arms were around her, her breath hitched. He thought at first he had scared her, but realized that she was simply trying to keep from falling apart.

So he held her close to him, and she sat, first clutching at the quilt that was wrapped around her, and then clutching Gilbert, who was wrapped around her too.

They stayed that way, not moving, not speaking- until finally Anne's desperate need of a handkerchief forced Gilbert to lean over to her bedside table and retrieve one. Anne's eyes were shut tight, and Gilbert wiped her nose himself.

After a long moment, Anne opened her eyes and looked down at the old, faded quilt. "Was this your mother's? It's pink."

Gilbert smiled. "Yeah, it's kind of old- it was on her bed when she was a little girl."

Anne looked at it with new eyes. Her finger traced the now-faded appliques of white and yellow ducks, sewn in a neat and tidy line around the edges of the quilt. "And your dad sent it over here to me?"

"Sure," Gilbert said.

"Oh," Anne replied. She felt so lost, so alone, so broken, and this gesture from Mr. Blythe seemed to do something that no one else had been able to; it somehow managed to fill in a little bit of the broken places, and she felt some tiny semblance of peace.

She did not say anything, though, and only leaned into Gilbert, feeling a heaviness and wondering if he would help her carry it.

He would, they both knew without conversation. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, and there they sat.

He stayed until he realized that Anne was asleep.

* * *

Marilla was in the doorway, watching them with tears in her eyes.

She knew that Anne _felt_ everyone's love surrounding her, but even though she felt it, it was not enough to save her from this darkness that had overtaken her.

She needed something more.

And soon she would have it.


	225. The Reverend Again

Note-

In the books, the reverend is very different, but since this is story about the tv show, I'm writing him how he is in the show.

* * *

Marilla had long given up trying to make Anne come to church, but she thought that the more religion Anne got, the better her condition would be. She told Anne to read the Bible- that it would help her- but after realizing that Anne was likely sitting with the open book and not reading it at all, she began to read _to_ her instead.

But Anne hardly ever listened when Marilla read the Bible to her. She lay in bed, Marilla sitting by her side, patting her hair or rubbing her back, and let the words fall down over her, not taking them in at all.

Marilla had begun with Proverbs, thinking that life advice would be beneficial for Anne. But after a few days of reading, and seeing Anne wither away the more 'wisdom' she got, Marilla had turned to the Psalms.

"Psalms are comforting," she told Anne.

Anne agreed that they were, and she listened for a little while- more than she had when Marilla read Proverbs- but she found that no matter how much she tried to listen, she had lost her ability to focus on anything. Her mind too easily drifted back into darkness.

When people in town began to understand what had really happened, churchgoers started to pray for Anne, and sometimes members of the congregation tried to visit, but Anne did not want to see anyone, and Marilla stopped letting people in when it became clear that the visits only upset Anne further.

She wanted the reverend to visit Anne- surely that would help- but since Anne didn't _like_ the reverend, she was torn over it. Finally she decided to ask the reverend to come talk to _her_ instead of Anne. Perhaps he could offer her some advice.

Despite her long look at the library and at the mail order catalogs, she had found no book that offered any advice about coping with an assault. She found several health books, but none that discussed conditions of the mind at any great length. Marilla felt she had read the same two paragraphs over and over in every book.

But the reverend proved to be unhelpful, too.

"The real problem isn't about her feelings at all," he said. "The real problem is her defiance- and her sloth."

"Sloth?" Marilla said, surprised. She did not consider Anne's melancholy to be sloth.

"Sloth. You have allowed her to become lazy."

"Well, Reverend…"

"And as for her defiance, you have told her she _must_ get up and do things, and she is being defiant in refusing. You must be harder on her."

"But I don't want to be hard on her," Marilla explained. "'Not after all she's been through."

The reverend insisted, "She should be in church. You must _make_ her attend. You cannot let her give the devil a foothold."

Marilla did not know what to say to that, but she didn't need to say anything, because the reverend continued:

"But where school is concerned, I don't see why she _must_ go back to school. It isn't necessary. At her age she surely has not yet perfected her housekeeping skills; she should stay home and work on accomplishing those."

"Well, I think a girl should start out with an education...It's a very unpredictable world, you know. Not _all_ women marry," Marilla said pointedly, wanting the reverend to remember that she herself had never married, and if she hadn't had her brother to farm with, she may have had very different circumstances. She told him, "…I think a girl ought to have a way to make a living for herself if the need should arise."

He paused to consider this. "I would disagree," he said, "…Except in _her_ case, perhaps you are right. We have to consider her different from other girls now, unfortunate as the case may be…"

"What do you mean, consider her different from _other_ girls?" Marilla interrupted, feeling a small bubble of anger deep in her chest.

"I mean that we cannot assume she will be able to find a husband, after this."

"Whether she marries or not is her own decision, Reverend, but I would like to know why you think she _can't_ find a man to marry her?"

The reverend looked uncomfortable. "A bride is meant to be pure as the driven snow, and wait for marriage. She has engaged in fornication. After the act she committed-"

" _She_ committed?!"

"Yes."

"Reverend, how exactly do you think _she_ committed fornication?"

The reverend said placidly, "Now, now, there's no need for upset. Surely we cannot blame the boy _completely_ \- yes, he ought to have had more self-control, but he only fell prey to natural urges."

"So his natural urges made it acceptable for him to attack my child?" Marilla's voice shook.

"That is not what I am saying."

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

"Are you quite _sure_ that Anne wasn't doing anything to make herself a temptation to this young man?"

"I think our conversation here is finished," Marilla said sharply. She stood up. "I'd like you to leave now."

* * *

I might not update again til next week. Hopefully before then, but probably not. ...The next chapter is the most important chapter in the whole story, so I need to make sure I say everything exactly how I want to say it. I think when you read it you will see why I think it is the most important chapter. I hope. Anyway thank you for reading and I hope I can get it up before next week.


	226. A Fellow Traveler

This is the most important chapter to me.

Anne has people around her who don't quite fully understand the emotions she's going through, but she IS getting a lot of love and help from them. Her family and her friends are a wonderful support system for her.

But now, she needs someone who can tell her the _practical_ stuff about how to get through it.

I thought about what *I* would have liked to have been given warning of…someone to tell me what lay ahead for me.

I thought about how I didn't know that triggers wouldn't necessarily last forever. That they can get better, and can even go away.

I thought about how I felt on those "anniversaries"- and how I didn't expect the whirlwind that hit me and drew me back in when the weather started to change. …How experiences we have can be so tied to the seasons around us.

I felt like I was too young to know that bad things can get better. When you're young, you just don't have enough life experience to know that when something happens, it doesn't have to be the end of everything.

So.

In this chapter I wanted to create a new character- someone who can help Anne find a path, because she has already navigated her own.

" _He was not a well-wisher, but a fellow-traveler. And that made all the difference."_ -Elizasky, Within a Forest Dark.

* * *

"You know, Gilbert Blythe said something to me when he first told me about the…attack."

"What did he say about it?" Dr. Carter asked Marilla as he sat with a cup of tea in her kitchen one sunny afternoon.

"He said she needed _more_. Gilbert shook his head and said, ' _I don't know what, but she needs more'_. …And when _he_ said it, I thought that he had done the best he could as her friend, and now it was time for _me_ to take over- that _I_ \- as a mother figure- was the ' _more'_ that she needed."

Dr. Carter nodded.

"But I find myself in the same boat Gilbert was…she needs _more_ , and _I_ don't know what the ' _more'_ is either, but _I_ don't seem to be it! I'm trying so hard to help her, but I don't know _what_ she needs."

Dr. Carter, being both a professional physician and a respected and beloved member of the community, _wanted_ to help Anne, but he, too, felt helpless. "I was thinking, perhaps a change? Take her away to the city, where things are _livelier_ …there's always something exciting happening, and it might draw her out of her confinement. And she could associate with people who've never heard about what happened to her. She could start fresh there."

As Marilla thought about that, he went on: "Or perhaps take her away to a warmer climate. Time by the seashore might be calming."

Marilla tried to be hopeful, but found herself unable to imagine that anything could be different. "Even if we _could_ take her away, I don't think it'll do any good because eventually she'll have to come home and all her same troubles will be right here where she left them."

Dr. Carter tried to think of something else to suggest.

"I _tried_ to talk to the reverend," Marilla said, feeling very near tears now. "He blames _Anne_. Not completely, but still, he does. He told me that a boy can easily fall into temptation, and so Anne must have..." Marilla trailed off, then said- anger in her voice- "…all I've learned from the reverend is that it's a girl's responsibility to keep men from attacking her, since they can't seem to help themselves."

* * *

Dr. Carter left Green Gables more lost than ever. He had never had a patient he could not help. He had never had a patient with nothing physically wrong, yet so lacking in energy.

And the longer it went on, the more it burdened him. It had been weeks since his little patient had been up and about, and it had reached the point that they could no longer leave her unsupervised, for fear she would harm herself. What was there to do?

He had consulted various academic journals and every published work he could find. He had written to other physicians he was associated with, and then many he was not.

As he passed through his front gate and greeted his faithful old dog, he wondered if he might have any mail. Once in a while there was a letter from some faceless doctor who had responded to his desperate request for professional advice.

His wife was out, but on the table there was indeed a letter. He recognized it as being from a doctor he'd written to some weeks ago. Dr. Carter had written to this man because he had read an article he'd published in a recent medical journal on the subject of conditions of the nervous system. It was a reach, but he was willing to give anything a try.

He cleaned his glasses, sat down, and patted his dog's head while he began the letter.

The doctor explained his experiences with handling patient's nervous disorders, and that he was not _sure_ Dr. Carter's patient would fall under that category, but, he believed he had a different way to help:

 _I was acquainted with a physician in my previous practice who spoke to me about a similar experience he'd had some years ago. I believe the advice of his patient would be of more help than any professional opinion either of us could have. He agreed to reach out to her, and while at first she was hesitant to tell a stranger her story, she was moved to compassion when he told her how the patient you spoke of is struggling, and that she's very young…_

* * *

Dr. Carter was afraid to hope. But four days later, another letter arrived, this one written in pretty script, but short and to the point:

 _Dr. Carter,_

 _My name is Lydia Barnes. Dr. Schuster wrote to me with your request. I am willing to come._

 _Please let them know I can come on the ten a.m. train this Wednesday, unless that is an inconvenient time, in which case, they may tell me what they prefer._

Dr. Carter did not wait to ask the Cuthberts' whether Wednesday at ten a.m. was a convenient time. He knew that for them, there _was_ no inconvenient time when it came to finding some way to help their child. Dr. Carter immediately wrote back to her with thanksgiving in his heart.

* * *

Anne heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They stopped in her open doorway.

She knew someone was standing there, waiting for her to look up and notice them, but she did not look up, because she did not care who it was or what they wanted.

"Hello, Anne," came a soft but unfamiliar voice.

She finally decided to look. A woman she had never seen before was standing in her doorway. Anne did not say anything to her.

"My name is Lydia. Dr. Carter wrote to me and asked me to pay you a visit."

Anne seemed to be sizing her up. Finally she asked, "Are you a doctor, too? I never met a doctor who was a lady."

Mrs. Barnes shook her head. "No. I'm just someone who came to help you."

Anne let go of a shaky breath. "No one can help me, because no one understands."

The stranger gave her a sad smile. " _I_ understand. Because it happened to me, too."

Anne stared at her.

"May I come in?" the stranger asked softly.

Anne nodded without saying a word.

The lady came in and sat down next to her.

"I won't pretend to know what you've been through, really, because I wasn't there. But if you'd like, I can tell you what happened to _me_ …and you can decide if you think we can share things with each other."

Anne breathed out slowly. "….all right."

The lady took a breath to steady herself before she began her story.

"One evening, I was at a train station. I'd been taken to the station by a visiting aunt, and I waved goodbye to her as she boarded the train to go back home, with no worries in the world."

"And then you were by yourself," Anne began hesitantly.

"Yes, but I wasn't in need of anyone to accompany me- I wasn't _just_ there to go with my aunt to the station, I was also was waiting on a train that was supposed to arrive at six thirty: a friend was supposed to meet me. I waited for him among the passengers, but I didn't know that he had been late, and when I realized he must have missed the train and wouldn't be coming, I decided that instead of waiting alone at the station for a hired carriage, I'd walk into town- it was only two streets over- and stay overnight at a cozy little bed and breakfast that was between the train station and the main street- and I'd go home in the morning. But I didn't make it to that bed and breakfast."

She stopped, giving herself a moment.

Then she continued, "The days were short- it was winter, and nearly Christmas- so it was dark by dinnertime."

"What happened?" Anne whispered, knowing what was coming, and wishing it wasn't.

"I realized I was being followed," she said, causing goosebumps on her arms. "There was no one else about, but I heard someone following me, and for the first time in my life I feared for my safety."

She took a breath. "A man caught up with me. He smiled and apologized for startling me. He said he was only following me because he wanted to return a bill he'd seen me drop. I didn't remember ever taking any money from my purse, but I assumed I hadn't noticed, and I thanked him for troubling himself to return it. He smiled and seemed like a gentleman, and I felt such relief! Then he asked if I had the time- he said he'd lost his pocket watch. I told him it was just past seven o'clock, said good evening to him, and turned to leave."

She looked at Anne, checking her face for any upset before continuing her story: "But when I turned to leave him, he grabbed my arm."

Anne found herself rubbing her own arm, where her wrist had been sprained.

"I thought he wanted to rob me. I threw my purse at him, thinking that if he had it, he'd go. But he had no interest in my purse."

"Did anyone hear you?" Anne asked, knowing they likely didn't but hoping against all odds that they had.

"I didn't scream, Anne."

Anne looked up at her.

"I…I couldn't seem to react. I just froze. I'd never had anyone grab me in my life or handle me so roughly. It was as if my mind couldn't register what was happening."

Anne nodded, remembering how she felt as if everything for her had been a confusing mix of happening-too-fast _and_ being in slow-motion.

Lydia continued to tell her story, while Anne listened.

It was an old story, but it was the kind of story that still felt as fresh as the day it happened.

She paused over some parts, and Anne worried that the lady was going to begin to cry. But what Anne did not know was that these pauses were once the places she _did_ cry. Now, she was able to breathe through them and keep going.

She hadn't told her story very many times, but she was beginning to find that each time it was told, it became just a little bit easier.

When she finished telling Anne what had happened- and what had happened later, after it all, as she tried to function- Anne was shaking.

Lydia noticed, and stopped.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told you everything. I came here to make things better for you, not worse."

Anne stopped shaking and said, stronger now, "No. I'm glad you came."

Then she was quiet a moment, before saying, "It's March now."

"Yes…"

"This happened in the _fall_. It's been _months_."

"For me it's been eleven years."

Anne looked up at her then.

She whispered again- so quietly Lydia barely heard- "Why won't this go _away?"_

"It's not going to go away, Anne."

"It won't go away…" Anne echoed softly.

The heaviness of that statement overwhelmed her.

"No, it won't. But it _will_ get better."

"I don't think it _can_ ," Anne said passionately, "I _know_ it can't. Because…because nothing has worked so far! I didn't talk about it for so long, and… everyone said 'once you talk about it, you'll feel better'. Once you're not holding this secret inside yourself. Well, it's _out_ now! And I expected I'd feel _different_ because of it. But I _don't_ , I feel even _worse!_ And it doesn't _matter_ if I talk about it or if I don't, because _nothing_ is helping!"

Feeling Anne's frustration, Lydia nodded.

Anne told her, "At first, I thought that when all my bruises went away and my wrist got better, it would be like nothing ever happened. But that didn't do anything."

Lydia explained, "We put these expectations on ourselves: Once I've let myself cry about it, I'll feel better. Once he gets in trouble for what he's done, I'll feel better. Things like that. And then when it doesn't really _solve_ things-"

Anne interrupted, her face shocked with revelation, " _That's_ why I got so depressed after I realized I wasn't going to have a baby."

"Were you?"

Anne explained, now that she finally understood her own emotions: "About putting expectations on ourselves. See, I kept telling myself- _promising_ myself!- that once I knew there was no baby, then everything would just go right back to the way it was before, and I'd be able to put it all behind me."

"And it didn't quite work that way, did it?"

"No. I mean, I felt _relief_. But…it just didn't magically fix everything…I kept promising myself I'd feel better and it never happened."

Lydia nodded. "The truth is, there's no...no set thing that can happen that will just _fix_ it. It's going to be a process."

The kind stranger looked at Anne for a moment, in her nightgown, in the room she'd hidden herself in for such a long time, so many things running through her mind.

"Would you take a walk with me?" she asked suddenly, hoping to bring the girl out into the sunshine where they could talk without the darkness all around them.

Anne hesitated for a long time before she finally whispered, "Yes."

Lydia waited downstairs with Marilla, and in a few minutes, Anne came down the stairs. Slowly, still unsure. Her dress was on, and her boots, and she'd braided her hair in their old braids- haphazardly with strands hanging loose, but they were there- she had tried. She had gotten up out of bed, and was dressed, and was coming downstairs of her own accord, and Marilla felt she could cry from this small miracle.

Anne stood in the open doorway, feeling the light touch her face.

And with Lydia by her side, she stepped out into the sunshine.


	227. Light and Air

Thank you to oz diva, OriginalMcFishie, Dear Miss V, and Chicken Whisper. I appreciate everyone staying with my story up to this point but I especially want to thank you four for the reviews and the PMs and the encouragement.

* * *

When Anne set foot on solid ground, Matthew, across the yard by the barn, looked up in surprise.

The visitor, taking Anne's hand gently, helped her down the porch steps, and Matthew went into the barn and called Jerry.

"Let's go in the house."

Jerry stopped raking.

"We'll…we'll play a game of checkers, and Marilla will give us lunch."

"But…my work…" Jerry was confused. He was here to do a job, not to come in and play.

"Anne's come out," he said quietly. "She's talking to her visitor now. Let's go in and give them some time."

Jerry nodded, never really understanding what had happened to Anne but knowing that she hadn't been out of the house in a long, long time.

He followed Mr. Cuthbert, and gave Anne a curious glance as he saw her and her visitor walking together toward the chicken coop.

* * *

As Anne walked beside Lydia, Marilla watched them from the window. She smiled when she saw Anne taking Lydia over to their chickens, and knew that when Anne pointed at them, she was telling Lydia the names she'd given them.

They stopped again where the flowers were blooming and looked at them, and then they continued through the grass until they reached the barn. They did not go in, but walked around the perimeter of it, at a leisurely pace, seemingly comfortable with each other, despite being strangers.

Marilla could see Anne's mouth moving, and knew that she was talking to Lydia. And she _kept_ talking- her mouth kept moving, and never stopped except a brief few minutes when Lydia would seem to say something reassuring in return.

They were gone for a long time.

* * *

"It's like this _one_ _thing_ affected _everything_."

Anne had often thought that, but she never had anyone to say it to, not really, because what they would have done was tell her that it didn't _have_ to. And maybe it didn't, but right now it did, and she was very much stuck in _right now._

She struggled through her difficult feelings: "Its… _every part of me_. Everything I do…even the things I want to do in the future…it feels like everything is affected by _this_. And I _hate_ that."

Lydia nodded. "I understand that. I thought that it should be compartmentalized: it happened at night near the train station, so there was no reason it should affect me to be out in the daytime with my friends. But the feelings came with me everywhere I went."

"It takes up… _energy_ ," Anne realized. "Because there are things you never gave a second thought to, and now you have to."

"Exactly," Lydia agreed. "I don't remember thinking all that much about my safety. I suppose we should, but I didn't, really, because I felt safe in my world and it simply wasn't an issue. But now, my surroundings are always at the forefront: Am I walking alone? Will anyone help me if something happens? Do I look vulnerable, that I might attract someone who wants to take advantage? …I used to like to try to make myself look pretty, now I just try to be unnoticed. And I don't think me looking pretty is what caused that man to attack me, but even so, I feel safer if I just try to be invisible. And can I trust the people I meet? I was always someone who makes friends easily, but now it takes me longer to let people into my life."

When Lydia finished talking, Anne was glad she was there, and walked closer by her side.

Anne picked up the conversation, saying shakily, "There are little things that bring me _back_. When I _least expect_ it, some…some sight, some sound, some smell, _something_ brings me right back to the memory and for a moment I'm back where I started."

Lydia nodded understandingly. "There were so many things that used to _ignite_ it for me- the whistle of a train…I used to like the sound, but now it gives me a start." She thought a moment then said, "There were many times in the past I'd walk down the hallway to my bedroom without my candle lit, but now whenever I've tried to walk down the hallway without my candle I feel like I'm back in that dark alley all over again… Once when I was out shopping, there was a man on the street who approached me, and that poor stranger will never know why I ran from him when he was just trying to return a parcel I dropped on the ground!"

"The crunch of leaves." Anne responded to her softly. "I used to love that, but now, it brings me right back. And lying on the ground! I can't lie down on the ground, and I used to do it _all the time_ but now it makes me panic! …It's an awful way to live, constantly having this crop up time and again."

"There is a…new normal," Lydia said carefully. "It sounds difficult, but I promise you this does _not_ have to rule your life!"

"I hope so," Anne said.

"Don't be discouraged- there are so many things that used to bother me that don't anymore!"

Anne looked unconvinced, and Lydia thought she needed some prompting. "Has there been anything _you_ struggled with and now you're finding you're able to take on?"

Anne thought about this. "Well, I wasn't even able to lie on my back in my own bed up until recently. Every time I lay on my back, I felt vulnerable…even though I was alone in my room in _my own bed_."

"But now you can?"

"Yes," she said. "I have to think very hard about being in my own bed, in my own house, and that I'm alone. But then I can do it."

"See? You're already starting to get better. Working to be able to lay down however you want to; it seems like such a small thing, but it's a _much_ bigger step than you realize. You should feel good about that."

"It doesn't seem like much…" Anne said doubtfully.

"Celebrate small victories," Lydia told her with a smile.

"Do they ever go away, though- or do you just have to work _forever?"_

"Not _all_ of the triggers will go away, but many of them _will_ , and others will affect you less and less as time rolls on," she told Anne. "I won't lie to you and tell you they'll _all_ disappear. But the ones that remain, you'll…you'll begin to _know yourself,_ Anne _-_ you'll know what's going to upset you and _when_ , and it won't startle you so much anymore when it happens. And then you'll begin to be able to ease into things- like by focusing on your breathing, things like that, that help you stay in the present moment. And you've _already_ started doing that."

Anne thought back to what Gilbert had showed her- with the candle she could scrape instead of her arms, and the sponge to squeeze tight, and the packet of rose petals to smell- and she suddenly found herself believing that it could work.

"I'll tell you something I wish someone had been there to tell me, though."

"What?" Anne asked.

Lydia took a breath. "Anniversaries are hard."

"Anniversaries?"

"Yes. When you come up on one year, you'll see what I mean".

She stopped talking a moment, then began again, "When we spoke of triggers. You'll find more as the anniversary approaches. You know there are sights, smells, sounds that we associate with certain times of the year? For _you_ , when fall comes again, the sound of the leaves crunching, the fall colors, that burnt fire smell, the crispness of the air…all of the sensations of fall are inextricably tied together with the experience of being violated. It's like when this happened, it…it captures everything around you in this…in this _bubble_ of _memory_ , if that makes sense."

Anne looked depressed at the thought.

Lydia continued, "And there was no one to warn _me_ of that, so when that first anniversary hit I thought all my healing had been lost because I felt I was right back to the way I was when it happened! …But then the season _passed_ , and the weather changed, and I was able to go right back to that healing I'd worked so hard to achieve. So just...just be aware that once fall is here, you _might_ have some hard days. And understand that when those hit you, it _doesn't_ mean everything you've worked on all year was lost- it's just a time where you'll have to get your bearings. But then you'll get through the fall, and you'll go right back to the progress you'd made before it came."

"All right," Anne said shakily. Although it was awful to be told that difficult times still lie ahead, there was also a strange sense of peace in _knowing_ what was coming, to _not_ be caught unaware, blindsided. To know what it meant- and that it, too, promised to leave her.

Lydia said, "I know it's not easy to hear that, but that was a difficult thing for me, so I thought it was important to let you know that."

Anne nodded, glad for her honesty.

"Be especially kind to yourself during those weeks. You'll get through it."

And for a moment, Anne believed she would.

"Did they ever find the man who did this to you?" Anne asked after a moment.

Lydia paused. "No," she said.

Anne shuddered. "That would be even _worse_. To never know _where_ he is. Or if you might see him _again_. I'm _sorry."_

Lydia shrugged. "It _was_ hard. It still is. But what bothers me most is that he could have done it again. Who knows how many times. I try not to think about that, because there's nothing I can do about it. …Did they ever find who did this to you?"

Anne's face flushed. She did not want to think about Billy. She did not even want to say his name. There was something in his very name that scared her.

But now she felt stronger, like she had power _over_ that name. He was part of _her_ story, and her story was _hers_ to tell, whenever she wanted to.

"No one had to find him, he wasn't a stranger," she announced. "I know him. His name is Billy. He's mean to people - _really_ mean- but I never thought of something like _this_ happening. He was waiting in the woods for me when I was walking to school. He, um…he was mad at me for something I said about his sister, but…"

Anne trailed off, thinking for the very first time that it did not matter _what_ she had said. He should not have done it. There was nothing that could justify such a brutality.

So she finished, "I didn't deserve that."

"No one does," Lydia agreed. "And I'm glad you know that."

"I didn't tell anyone for a long time- well, except one person. See, I thought telling would be too hard, but _not_ telling just made everything harder! And I kept on going to school with him, day after day…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Lydia said, her face turning sad. "My, I thought it was difficult for me, having a stranger do this…but I think it would be harder to have it be someone you _knew_ \- someone you had to interact with on a daily basis- I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you."

"No, I think yours is worse," Anne said, shaking her head. "You don't know where he went, he could be _anywhere_ …" she shuddered.

"Well, it's not a contest of who had it worse, is it?"

Anne shook her head. "I suppose not."

"Is that why you won't go back to school?" Lydia asked gently. "Dr. Carter mentioned you didn't want to go. I can see why. I can't imagine that being healthy."

"Well- but he went away. He's staying with his aunt and uncle now."

"I'm glad."

"Yes. But…his sister is my friend."

"Ah, that makes it complicated, doesn't it?"

Anne nodded. "I worried we couldn't be friends, but I think we can. I _hope_ we can."

"That's good," Lydia said. "But it's all right to have boundaries, too. If it bothers you for her to talk about him in front of you, you should be able to tell her…I think she should understand why you don't want to hear about him."

"Oh, I know. I think she understands- as much as she can, anyway. I know he's her brother and she loves him, but she's also shown she's very much on my side, and I'm grateful for that. …She's actually the one who got people to believe me and she helped to get him sent away."

"Well, it certainly sounds as if she's an ally for you."

Anne nodded. She plopped down on a log they happened to pass by as they made their way to the back of the property, behind the house.

"Am I tiring you out?" Lydia asked, concerned. "I know you haven't been up and about for a long time. You'll have to take things slowly, you know- you need to get your strength back up."

Anne shook her head. "I don't want to go back inside."

Lydia smiled, happy to hear that. She sat down on the log next to Anne.

Anne seemed to want to say something; Lydia could see her face pensive and her eyes cloud over. But Anne did not speak.

Finally Lydia asked softly, "What is it?"

Anne suddenly found herself with unshed tears. She looked up at Lydia. "How long did it take to stop feeling _empty?"_

Before Lydia could respond, Anne broke out into tears, "I feel so sad and _empty_ all the time."

Lydia brushed Anne's stray hair from her eyes. "There's a grieving process, Anne."

"Grieving? Grieving is what you do when someone dies! But no one died!" But then she broke: "And then sometimes I think someone _did_ …I feel like I lost _myself_."

She took Anne's face in her hands and looked into her eyes with such love that Anne felt as if she wasn't a stranger at all, but was someone very dear.

"That why you're grieving, darling- because you're having to make sense of a deep and profound loss- of so many things- and you're trying to figure out how to keep going despite it. Just like people do when they lose someone."

Anne's eyes broke her heart.

Lydia said, her voice hopeful and optimistic: "The good news, though, is that you _haven't_ lost yourself. You're _still_ smart, and brave, and kind, and wonderfully creative…yes, I _have_ been talking to Matthew, can you tell?!"

Anne laughed despite her tears.

"And those are all things you _still_ have. You're still the same person you were before…just, with some new experiences."

"I suppose so," Anne whispered, trying to feel brave.

"You have good people around you. This town believes you, and your family supports you."

"They do," Anne agreed, grateful for that.

"But I also understand that in a way, it's _harder_ when people in town, at school- know something _so_ intimate about you."

"It's embarrassing," Anne admitted. "Everyone tells me I have nothing to be embarrassed about, because I didn't do anything…but that doesn't change the fact that people are looking at me knowing what happened…"

Lydia told her, "They all know what happened- or, they _think_ they know. And it's okay to tell people that it's too hard to talk about, or that it's too unpleasant of a memory to relive. You don't _have_ to tell anyone anything- unless you want to."

Anne nodded.

"I've been told there's a certain young man who's quite committed to you. That will make it easier."

"My…friend. Gilbert. He's the one who…he was there after Billy. He found me and he helped me."

Lydia said, "I'm glad you weren't alone."

Anne nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I've never been alone," she whispered. "And I don't think I ever will be."


	228. Two Very Different Things (trigger?)

The subject of this chapter is sex. That's why it has a label. (Things are described in a clinical way, though).

All through the story, Anne conflates rape and sex. It doesn't matter if you're with a guy you loves you, because the actual physical act of sex is the same thing as what happened during the rape. So of course you'll feel used and hurt.

And it isn't supposed to be that way, but it's difficult to separate the two.

Throughout the story, Anne is frustrated- everyone keeps telling her don't worry, when you're with someone you love, it will be different, really!

…But that is so vague.

So, no longer avoiding the subject, I decided to try to read about it and I found out some specific ways that one is different from the other.

Now Anne is going to understand WHY it won't be the same.

* * *

Anne looked up at Lydia and said, plainly and without hesitation or embarrassment: "I love him."

Lydia smiled.

"And he loves me. He wants to get married. Not now, I mean. When we're old enough. …But I don't know."

"Well, there's no reason to rush into anything," Lydia said. "Particularly since you're both still so young."

"Yeah…" Anne trailed off, rubbing her wrist and hoping the scars wouldn't linger.

"I don't know if this is what it feels like when people fall in love and get married. But it _must_ be, because I can't _imagine_ feeling _anything_ stronger than this."

Lydia listened.

"But it's scary, too."

"In what way?" Lydia asked.

"Well…" Anne began hesitantly. This was a subject she had discussed with others, before- Marilla and Emily.

And as well-intentioned as they were, they had _not_ been able to help her.

But perhaps with _Lydia_ …

Finally Anne continued, "The thing is, I really do love him. But I can't…he told me…he told me that he didn't care if we ever…"

"Is this about intimacy in marriage, Anne?" Lydia asked gently. "It's all right, you needn't be afraid to ask."

"I noticed your wedding ring," Anne said slowly, looking at the gold band on Lydia's finger. "And since _you've_ been through what _I've_ been through…" Anne took a big breath. "I _told_ Gilbert we shouldn't get married because of it. Because I can't do… _that_ …with him. I just _can't_."

"What did he say?" Lydia wanted to know.

"…He said we can be married without doing that."

"Well…I suppose it's nice that he wants to put your feelings before his own."

"Yeah," Anne said glumly. "He _always_ puts my feelings before his own. …I just wish that _I_ could put _his_ feelings before my own…but I _can't."_ She sounded hopeless, then she looked over at Lydia and asked: "How long have you been married?"

"This June will be our second anniversary," she said with a warmth in her smile that let Anne know she had found true happiness.

"Do _you_ …I mean, _you're_ married…"

Lydia answered by putting her hand on her stomach and saying, "We're expecting a little one now. …I know it's a bit early to tell."

Anne _hadn't_ noticed, the lady only appeared slightly bigger around the middle.

"Weren't you scared?" she whispered, looking at her. But she didn't wait for Lydia to answer her question. Instead, she suddenly exclaimed, sounding almost disgusted- "I don't understand how you can be all right with him doing that to you!"

"It isn't something he does _to_ me. It's something we do _together_. Because we _want_ to."

" _Well, I_ don't ever want to do that again," Anne said, shaking her head resolutely.

"You don't want to do it _again_? Anne, you've never done it _at all!_ "

Anne bit her lip.

"But if you _really_ don't want to, you don't have to. It's meant to be a _choice_ , not something to be forced upon you."

That made Anne feel better.

"On the other hand," Lydia began, "Don't avoid getting married because you're afraid of intimate relations. Because the beauty of being in love and spending your life with that person, that beauty far outweighs the fear you feel. When you're with the _right_ person, eventually you'll _want_ to be closer to them. I know it's hard to imagine wanting that now. But it won't be the same."

And suddenly Anne felt angry. Her voice shaking, she argued, "But it _is_ the same! Because it's still…it's still him putting his…his…" Anne was unable to find a word, and shook her head in frustration, repeating: "How could that _not_ be the same?"

Lydia responded, her eyes looking deep into Anne's:

"Is a day of sailing on the lake just the same on a calm day as it is during a storm? After all, either way, you're still doing the same thing- sailing- aren't you?"

She smiled as she could see that taking meaning to Anne.

"The violation that was done to us was _not_ intimate relations. It's a gross misappropriation of it. It's someone using intimate relations in a way it wasn't meant to be used. That's all."

Shakily, Anne told her, "But I have this friend- a grown up friend, named Emily. She's married. I tried to ask her what it was like, and you know what she said? She said it feels _nice!_ I told her I didn't _believe_ her, that it couldn't _possibly_ feel good! And I told Marilla what I thought, too, and Marilla said, ' _Oh, I'm sure it isn't the same'. …_ But how can anybody _tell_ me that?!"

"Because it's true, Anne."

"No, that's not what I _mean_ ," Anne shook her head, frustrated, "I'm saying- I'm saying that they can't _know_."

Lydia replied, "Well it's my understanding that Miss Cuthbert never married, but your friend Emily _surely_ has experience, so-"

"But _she_ can't know, either!" Anne tried to explain, still frustrated that her feelings couldn't be understood. "Just because she has experience, it doesn't mean she- she-"

"Anne, take a breath, all right?" Lydia said gently. "A couple good, deep breaths. And then try to tell me."

Anne took a gulp of air and tried again, slower this time. She thought of a different way to explain what she meant: "If I've only ever eaten apples, and they've only ever eaten pears, then how can they tell me an apple isn't the same as a pear? _I_ don't know what pears are like, and _they_ don't know what apples are like."

Lydia finally understood: "Ah, I see. No one you've talked to has experienced it _both_ ways."

"Yes!" she breathed out, relieved that someone _finally_ understood. But then- tears coming fresh- she burst out with, " _This is all I know!"_

Lydia sat up straighter. "Well, I _have_ experienced it both ways. Do you want me to tell you _specifically_ what is different? I'll be very candid."

"Please do," Anne breathed out, almost shaking.

"All right. I can think of several differences." She stopped a moment to gather her thoughts.

"First of all, when you were attacked, you were scared- you froze up and you felt tense, didn't you?"

"Yes…"

"And being tense makes things _hurt_. When you're in a situation where you feel _comfortable_ \- and you feel relaxed instead of tense, it _does_ make a difference."

"…all right."

"And another way is- I promised to be very candid, didn't I?- your body will do some things to prepare for intimate relations."

"What…what does it do?" Anne asked, almost afraid to know.

"When you have feelings of _wanting_ that intimacy- and when things begin to happen that you _enjoy,_ your body will lubricate itself on the inside, and that lubrication makes intimacy not be painful the way it was when it was something forced upon you."

She went on, "Your body does another thing to prepare itself- inside, you have something called a cervix. When you're in a happy, comfortable situation and you want it to happen, your cervix will pull back a little bit, to make more room for the man's intimate part."

"That sounds strange," Anne said, imagining something like pulling back a slingshot, and unable to picture this.

"Well, you won't really know it's happening- it just happens. But having a bit more space down there makes things more comfortable."

"And all those things _really_ make it _different?"_

"I know they do. I wouldn't lie to you- if it was the same, I'd tell you that."

Anne believed her.

"And the bleeding only happens the first time, so you're done with that," Lydia said quickly.

"Oh," Anne said. "I didn't know that. I just thought you had to bleed every time, because it was something painful."

"Well, it shouldn't _be_ painful. Really, Anne, it _does_ feel- as your friend Emily said- _nice_." She smiled, blushing a little. "When everything is going right, you'll be surprised at how… _nice_ it feels."

Anne felt some relief. "I just couldn't imagine how anyone could think it felt _nice_ when I _knew_ it was awful!"

Then she sighed. "But it's _still_ scary."

She looked up at Lydia. "Even if it feels _good_ , it's still _scary_. …I keep remembering being on my back and looking up at his face and- I still have nightmares that I'm trapped- I can't even tuck my sheets into the end of my bed because I _hate_ feeling like anything is holding me _down!"_

"That's another difference," Lydia told her kindly. "When you _want_ to do these things, you and your husband can find the best way to be _-_ you don't _have_ to be lying on your back the way you were when you were attacked. You'll find a way that works, a way that doesn't make you feel so vulnerable."

"I didn't know there was any other way to _be_ ," Anne said. "I just thought that's how people did that."

"You can do what works for you."

Anne nodded, feeling lighter somehow.

Lydia hesitated. "It doesn't mean it will be easy at first. You'll feel scared. I'll be honest with you…"

"Yeah?" Anne asked hesitantly.

Lydia told her, "The first time you try to do it, it isn't going to go very well."

Anne waited to hear what she was going to say, and in surprise, she realized she was interested to know, rather than fearful of it.

Lydia continued, "…I suppose the first time doesn't go well for _most_ couples, due to lack of experience in the matter, but…for you and I, Anne, that's _not_ why. For us, the first time doesn't go well because…"

Anne waited for her to go on. Lydia seemed to be thinking about how to say it.

Finally she said, "Because our mind and our body need time to understand that this is going to be different from what happened before."

Anne nodded slowly.

Lydia smiled. "Don't give up on the idea, because it truly can be a wonderful thing. If you're with the right man, he'll care about you feeling safe more than he cares about his own wants. …And if that's your friend, then it sounds like you already know he will."

Anne thought about the future.

Lydia watched her. "Do you feel any better about all that?"

Anne's face was a picture of relief. "I do."

She stood up and stretched, feeling her muscles relax and something in her chest untighten so that she could breathe in the refreshing air of early spring. She felt ready to go back into the house. She found herself hungry, and wondered what they were going to eat for dinner. She began to hope for beef stew, with carrots and potatoes, and maybe some hot buttered bread to eat with it. Maybe Lydia could stay and eat dinner with them. She knew Mrs. Lynde had brought over some fudge; maybe they could have that for dessert. And afterward they could play a game.

As they walked back to the house, Lydia asked her: "If you start to feel afraid again, just remember the most important reason it's different."

"What's that?"

"The most important reason it's different, Anne, is that if you need him to stop, he _will_."


	229. A Kindred Spirit and a House Reawakened

Lydia _did_ stay for dinner, and Marilla wished she could stay forever, because Anne was _eating_.

Anne couldn't eat _much_ \- she wasn't used to eating, yet- but she finished almost all the potato soup in her bowl, and took a few bites of her dinner roll, and she even asked Marilla if they could make beef stew with potatoes for the next day.

Marilla was happy Anne had a food request, and even happier that Anne had said "the next day" _._ She was hoping for something to happen _another_ _day_. And for Marilla, that came by divine grace.

Before Lydia left them, she came back up to Anne's room, to retrieve the package she'd left when she was talking to Anne there. Anne vaguely remembered Lydia setting something down when she'd first come in the room. Now she went with Lydia up the stairs, curious about what it was.

They sat on Anne's bed and Lydia handed the package to Anne to open. As Anne slipped the string loose and pulled the brown paper off, Lydia said to her, "Everyone I've talked to has told me about your big words. So I brought you another one."

Anne opened the book. It was a journal- a nice one, with a leather cover, and when she opened it up, she saw that on the first page, Lydia had written one word- big and bold, and in beautiful calligraphy that Anne found she couldn't wait to try to imitate.

 _Resilient._

"That's what you are, Anne. Don't forget that."

Anne shook her head. She was looking at the little curly-cues that decorated every letter of the word _resilient_.

"I've found that writing helps," Lydia told her.

"Me, too," Anne whispered, still staring at the word. Something inside her strengthened.

"Then fill up every page," Lydia said with a smile.

Anne nodded. She always seemed to be short on paper, and the paper she used in school wasn't like _this_. She touched the pages- sturdy, and the color of buttermilk.

The word _resilient_ gave her a foundation to stand on, but what made her feel she could fly were all the _empty_ pages behind it…she found she could not wait to fill them.

"Thank you," she whispered. "This is… _heavenly_."

Lydia's eyes shone.

Anne looked up at Lydia, into her eyes. "Thank you for coming," she said passionately, the simple words not feeling like enough to make Lydia see all she had done for her. "I don't know what I would have done…I felt so _lost_. I _still_ do. …But now I see that I'm not going to feel this way forever."

"You won't," Lydia said with a loving smile. She had not known if she could make a difference for this young girl who needed her so much. She had not known what to say. But it seemed that what Anne needed most was just to know that she was not alone in what had happened to her, that there was someone who understood, and someone who could show her that she could live through this.

Lydia said, "And you can write to me, Anne, any time you want to."

"Can I?" Anne asked, feeling touched that Lydia was willing to keep talking to her. She didn't have to; Anne was a stranger, and it had been kind enough for Lydia to be willing to come visit her at all.

"I hope you'll keep an open dialogue with your family, of course, because they love you and they care. But I know that it's different, talking about this with someone who's been through it."

Anne nodded.

"Well," Lydia said, brighter now. "I suppose I better be heading out. Your Matthew is going to take me to meet my husband in town, and then we'll head to the train station." She explained, "My husband came with me, but he stayed in town while I came here, so you'd have more privacy."

They smiled at each other, each feeling some peace.

"Before you go…" Anne began hesitantly.

"Yes?"

Anne wanted to know something else. "What did your husband say? When you told him? Did he re-think marrying you after all?"

"No. He was just sad. He hated to think someone had hurt me. And I know it was hard for him, too- when you love someone who's been hurt and there's nothing you can do to fix it, that's hard."

"That's how Gilbert feels, I think."

Then, being forthright, Lydia continued, "…And maybe sometimes he was frustrated for himself, too- I can imagine it isn't easy to be married to a woman who carried such a trauma with her."

Anne nodded slowly. "His life- and our life together- would be a lot easier if this hadn't happened."

Lydia agreed, but wanted to leave Anne with positivity, and told her, "The more you love each other, the more you both give to make it work."

Anne didn't realize she had started smiling, and told Lydia, "There's more pulling us together than there is keeping us apart."

Lydia smiled back.

But then Anne said, "Gilbert already knows what happened to me. But…if something happened and we _didn't_ get married, if I married somebody _else_ , somebody who _didn't_ know, I wouldn't want to tell him _at all_."

Lydia took a deep breath, and said honestly: "Unfortunately it's a conversation you'll _have_ to have. It _does_ impact your relationship, there's no getting around that."

Anne nodded. She didn't like this, but there was something better about knowing the reality.

Then she said, "You know, no one seems to care much about a man's purity but there's such an emphasis on a woman's! It doesn't seem _fair_. It's like...it's like we're considered damaged goods, like we aren't worthy of a nice man or a white wedding or anything, just because of not being a virgin anymore. It's so..."

"Unjust," Lydia finished for her. "You're right, it's completely one-sided. That's the world we live in right now. I spent years feeling like I wasn't deserving of love, because what good man would want to be with a ruined woman? That's the word I used for myself, Anne- ruined!"

Anne thought about the time she'd used that very same word for herself.

"But I'm going to tell you something my husband said to me, when I first told him about what had happened. …He told me that I _hadn't_ lost my virginity- that the man who attacked me could not take that from me."

Anne made a face. "What?"

Lydia explained, "He said it shouldn't be about what happens _to_ you. If it matters at all, then it ought to be about the choices you make for yourself. Anne, you and I never _chose_ this. That's what he said, my husband…you didn't _choose_ it, so it-"

"So it doesn't count," Anne finished, startled by this revelation.

Lydia touched her shoulder, saying, "Don't ever give your future to a man who makes you feel ashamed of your past."

Anne said softly. "That's what Gilbert keeps telling me- that I have nothing to be ashamed of. …And I keep telling _him_ he doesn't understand."

Lydia smiled. "If he's telling you that, then I think he understands even better than you do."

Then Lydia asked, "Will you walk out to the buggy with me?" She did not want to leave Anne in her bedroom; she wanted her to walk downstairs again, hoping she'd stay down there, in the bright, cheerful kitchen, instead of alone in her shadowy room at the top of the stairs.

"Yes," Anne said.

As they walked down the steps, Lydia asked, "Would you like to go into town with us? You could meet my husband, and maybe you and Matthew could ride to the train station with us and see us off."

Anne hesitated. She'd _like_ the few extra minutes with Lydia, but… "No," she said softly.

Lydia understood. "That's all right. You took a big step today, just coming down and taking a walk outside. Maybe soon you'll feel like going into town again. I know you can do it- when you're ready."

Anne looked outside. She saw Matthew waiting with the buggy. Marilla was coming through the hall with her shawl and hat, ready to go.

"Do you want to go, Anne?" Marilla asked.

Anne shook her head. Lydia touched Anne's shoulder and, looking at Marilla, said gently, "Not quite yet."

Marilla nodded, understanding. She set her hat down. "Well, that's all right. I can stay home with you, then."

"No," Anne said, surprising herself. "You can go. I'll be all right here at home."

Marilla looked unsure.

Anne smiled. "I'd like to get reacquainted with the house again."

"All right. I'll go out now, and give you a moment," Marilla said, understanding that they might want to say their goodbyes privately.

Anne did not know how to say goodbye.

She let go of a shaky breath and said, "Thank you for coming. I know I already said it, but…thank you. I love big words, and I…I don't seem to be able to think of any just now. …For so long, I felt like my voice had left me."

Lydia smiled. "That's all right. Your big words will come back to you soon."

Anne bit her lip. "It helped me, to talk to you. I didn't know anyone could understand me. But I found a kindred spirit. And it changed so much for me."

"I'm sure this sort of thing has happened to lots of women, Anne, and I hope that someday this will be something it's no longer taboo to talk about….that women…everywhere…will feel free to share their pasts with each other and build one another up to become stronger as a whole."

Anne nodded.

Lydia told her slowly, as if to make it last, "I know that right now it feels as if the sun has gone down and the horizon's been darkened , but someday soon your life will be sunlight again and what you went through will be like a shadow that passed over it."

They hugged, and Anne felt Lydia pass some of her strength to her through that hug, and she began to think about who she, in turn, could pass it on to.

She watched Lydia walk outdoors. Her wedding band caught the light and sparkled.

Matthew got down so he could offer Lydia his hand to get into the buggy.

Anne leaned against the doorframe and waved as they drove off.

* * *

After Lydia left, Anne went upstairs to retrieve her new journal, and she sat by the parlor window, beginning to write. Sometimes she would write stories, and sometimes just her feelings, even the ones that were hard to accept. Maybe someday she'd even write down things that were funny, like what Minnie May said or what Moody did at school. It had been so long since anything had seemed funny, but she thought that soon she would begin to feel a sense of humor coming back, and when it did, she would like somewhere to write about it.

* * *

When Matthew and Marilla came home, they both noticed that Anne's face seemed changed, somehow. There had been someone who knew how to help her unburden herself, and the light behind her eyes no longer had the shade pulled over it.

That night, Marilla came up to tuck her in as she had grown accustomed to, and read to her for a while. Anne told Marilla she felt a little bit better, and Marilla kissed her head and told her she loved her. Marilla did not press her about going back to school, or even about getting up and dressing again in the morning. She just told her to do what she felt able.

After Marilla left, Anne lay a long time in the dark, thinking for _herself_ about going to school, and about getting up and dressing again in the morning. And she wasn't sure, but as she thought about it more and more, she felt that perhaps she could try.

Eventually her eyes closed, and sleep came, and for once, it was undisturbed.


	230. Outpouring

Anne utilizes my _the only thing I have to do_ method here :p Whenever I start feeling overwhelmed, I tell myself "the only thing I have to do is..." and do it. And then I say it again for the next thing: "the only thing I have to do is..." Because dividing everything up into tiny little steps makes it easier. :)

* * *

In the morning, when Anne woke up, she hoped she would be all right now. But it was a fragile hope.

She lay there a few minutes, and finally sat up.

She got out of bed and washed her face, but found that she could not fathom going downstairs and having the whole day ahead of her.

She took a deep breath.

 _The only thing I have to do is put my dress on_ , she thought. Even the buttons on her dress overwhelmed her, so she quickly told herself she did not have to button them. _The only thing I have to do is put my dress on._

Now that it was on, she looked in the mirror. She took another deep breath.

 _The only thing I have to do is button the first button._

And once she buttoned that first one, it was easier to complete the line of buttons, going all the way up until she was finished and her dress was buttoned.

 _The only thing I have to do is put my stockings on._

So she did.

That accomplished, she hesitantly slipped her feet into her boots.

She went to her door, and put her hand on the knob.

 _The only thing I have to do is walk down the steps. And if I change my mind, I can come right back up._

She went slowly down the stairs.

Matthew and Marilla were having breakfast, and Anne surprised them when she walked in.

"Anne," Marilla said in wonder. "My, it's good to see you up! Are you hungry?"

Anne nodded, and went over to where Matthew sat, leaning in to him for a hug. He smiled up at her, holding her close.

Anne did not talk much during breakfast. As she had told Lydia, she felt her voice had been taken away from her- but she also had the promise that it would return.

After breakfast, Matthew needed to start work, and Anne helped Marilla cut up carrots and potatoes. They were going to get them in with the roast so they could make beef stew, which Anne had asked for yesterday. Marilla was happy there was something Anne _wanted_.

As they were finishing, there was a knock on the door. Anne stopped in alarm, but Marilla gave her a pat and went to answer it. It was Mrs. Lynde.

Anne heard Marilla talking to an excited Mrs. Lynde in the hallway, and came out slowly to see what was happening.

Anne felt terribly self-conscious, because she was not used to being around people, and because Mrs. Lynde had seen her at her worst. But today Mrs. Lynde looked over at her with understanding.

"Hello, Mrs. Lynde," she said shyly.

"Anne," Mrs. Lynde said, coming over to her. "You look well. It's good to see some color in your cheeks."

Anne nodded, swallowing. "What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"One of Mrs. Lynde's sons- the one with the new baby- unexpectedly came to visit," Marilla told her. "Isn't that nice?"

Anne only stared.

"I was asking Marilla to come over and see them- it's been so long," Mrs. Lynde said, "And of course you must come, too."

" _No_..." she said breathlessly, shaking her head.

"Rachel, Anne can't go. I'll come myself, but I'll have to drop by some other time, when someone can stay here with her," Marilla explained.

"Well, they were hoping to see you and Matthew while they were here. All the children keep asking when 'Aunt Marilla' is coming over. You know all their little ones adore you. But I understand if you can't come over- should I have them stop by Green Gables to see you before they go? I just didn't want to leave Anne out, is all."

Anne shrank back from them.

Marilla drew Anne to her side. "It's all right, Anne." She said, "I don't think Anne is up for company coming, not just yet. I hate to miss them, Rachel, but I need to stay with her, and she can't have a house full of people over right now. I hope you understand."

"No," Anne spoke up, her voice stronger. "You should go see them, Marilla. They want to see you, and you want to see them."

"Yes, but-"

"I'll be all right by myself," she said. "And Matthew's just outside. I'm not really alone."

"But you would be, dear. Matthew's gone to get a new rake."

"Oh," Anne said slowly. "Well...I still think you should go. You let me alone when you took Lydia to the train station, and I was all right. And I'll be all right today, too. I...I think it was good for me, yesterday, to know I _can_ get along by myself sometimes."

"I don't know..." Marilla said hesitantly. "Jerry's still here, but...he doesn't know what happened to you..."

Anne said confidently, "If Jerry's here, then I won't really be alone. It's all right."

Marilla looked back and forth from Rachel to Anne, and then she pulled Anne off to the corner a little ways. "Anne, I want you to tell me the _truth_. Are you feeling better? No, I know you won't _really_ , not _yet_ , but I want to know if you're feeling anything like you felt during those dark times. Yesterday when we left you alone, you seemed to enjoy it, and when you went to bed I looked at your arms, and you hadn't done anything you shouldn't, and I was overjoyed to see it. But I can't tell for _sure_ if today will be like yesterday." She looked worried. "Though, if you _did_ feel that way, perhaps you wouldn't _tell_ me, and- oh, I don't know-"

Anne put a hand on Marilla's arm. "I liked being alone yesterday because it let me know that I _can_ be alone. I don't have to be afraid to be in our own home anymore. And today will be the same way."

Anne was able to convince Marilla, though Marilla promised to be back within the hour.

* * *

While Matthew and Marilla were both out, Anne wandered the house, feeling in every room as if she were greeting an old friend.

In the cellar, on a high shelf, she spotted her sewing basket that had been hidden from her, but with surprise, she found she did not desire to hurt herself with her scissors or needle as she had only days before.

She started to climb up to get the sewing basket and take it upstairs with her- wanting to finish her Jane Eyre needlepoint for Gilbert- but after thinking a moment, she set the basket back on the shelf where she'd found it.

She would wait for Marilla.

She _wanted_ to believe she was all right now, but she did not know if she could trust herself. She felt discouraged by this for a moment, until she realized that the very fact that she was choosing to wait until someone was with her meant she cared about making sure she got well.

She wandered back upstairs, looking for something safe she could do.

In Marilla's room, she spotted a laundry basket in the corner, piled with gifts. She looked with interest at them. They were for her.

She remembered people bringing things to her, but she felt confused by that, and didn't really understand why. Was that something people did- give gifts to someone who was the victim of a crime? It certainly wasn't something to _celebrate_. She didn't know. Then she decided it didn't matter; they'd brought her things because they wanted to make her happy. Now she took the laundry basket into the parlor to look at.

As she took each item out, she remembered all the people who had come by to visit her, and how she would not allow any of them in. And even when she turned them away at the door, they kept coming. At the time she had found it be an annoyance; now, she loved them for not giving up on her.

She had two new hair ribbons. One from Ruby, and one- surprisingly- from Josie. Anne sighed over Ruby's, because it was pink and she couldn't wear it. But she held it up to her braid and thought for the first time that maybe pink didn't really look _so_ bad with red hair. Maybe she'd wear it after all. She opened the lace handkerchief that held Josie's best blue hairbow and a note fell out. Anne opened it. It was an apology. She decided to read it later. She forgave Josie, and she appreciated that she wanted to apologize to her, but she felt it would be better to look at her love gifts for a while and just feel good about the support from everyone. The reminder of what Josie had done could wait until later.

She opened a tin of peanut brittle that had been brought by a lady at church. She took a piece out and chewed it while she opened the cards from the other churchgoers. People mostly just said they were praying for her and hoped she'd feel better soon.

Then she pulled out a note that had been stuck in the corner of a box. It was from Tillie and Ruby. She ate her peanut brittle while she read it. It was about everything going on at school. Anne found herself smiling just a little bit.

Minnie May's joke book was in the basket, too, and Anne began reading it. Though she smiled at the funny parts, she was not in a place yet where she had the capacity for laughter, and so she tucked the book away, intending to revisit it another time when she could truly enjoy it.

There was something from Emily and her husband Arnold, too. Emily had wrapped it. Anne vaguely recalled that Emily had stopped by close to the time her birthday would have been. She pulled the paper off to find a beautiful volume of fairy tales. Emily had been sending away for books for Clara; she did not know Emily had bought one for her, too. She opened the book and saw that the first page had a note, written as if it were from baby Clara herself: _Happy birthday Anne. I miss you. I hope you can come over soon and play with me. You are my best friend. Love, Clara._

Anne set the book on the table next to her, deciding she would ask Matthew if he could take her over to Emily's house to visit. She wasn't sure when, but soon.

The next thing she picked up was a long, long letter from Diana. Diana had been sending letters over with Gilbert all this time, but Anne had stopped reading them, because even reading a short letter took too much out of her. Now, she found herself looking forward to reading such a long letter from her dear bosom friend.

Anne could not wait, and began to read Diana's letter right away. It began with Diana telling her that her mother was inviting Anne to come stay overnight in the spare room, any time she wanted to. _She doesn't think you're the wrong sort of girl anymore, Anne. She knows now that you were attacked, and it wasn't your fault. She's sorry she ever believed Mrs. Pye. She says she doesn't know why she did, but she hopes you'll forgive her for keeping us apart._

Anne felt some peace at knowing that she would no longer be shunned from her friend's home. Even better was her ability to imagine herself going over to Diana's house- someday soon- and the feeling of excitement it gave her.

She kept reading Diana's letter: _Anne, I don't want to upset you, but you'll have to make sure you don't say anything about what happened to you, at least not that my mother can hear. She's finally come around- and she doesn't blame you!- but she's still very worried about me being exposed to such knowledge. So I told her you've said you don't want to talk about what happened at all, ever. …She felt better about us spending time together once she believed you wouldn't tell me any details of what it was like to have intimate relations._

"I've never had intimate relations," Anne said out loud to herself, and found- surprisingly- that she was not just trying to convince herself, she did, in fact, believe this to be true.

She set Diana's letter down, deciding to finish it later. But she wasn't disheartened by Mrs. Barry's worries, in fact, she understood them. She wished _none_ of the children had to know anything about such matters, including herself.

The last thing in the basket was a small package with an envelope tied to it. She recognized it as what Gilbert had brought to her on her birthday. She had never opened it.

She picked up the package first. It rattled. Curious, she peeled back the paper, and found a puzzle. She opened the box and looked inside. A mound of cut out cardboard pieces lay there, each no bigger than the end of her finger. _One thousand pieces_ , the box told her. She felt overwhelmed. But then she smiled. It would take a _long_ time to put it together, and she looked forward to all those afternoons she'd spend with him.

She took up the card now. It was the heart Gilbert had cut out of white paper and brought to her back when it had been her birthday. Marilla had taken it out of its envelope, but Anne had never read it. She moved the pink bow off to the side, and read what he had written: _Anne, I know you don't want to celebrate your birthday right now, but I do, because the day you were born, the world changed, and my life changed too. I keep thinking about the dreams we shared, about someday. I know we don't have all the answers, but I know everything will work out all right as long as we're together. I hope to see you soon. Until then, I'll keep dreaming, for both of us. I love you. -Gilbert._

Anne found her eyes wet with unshed tears. But they were not tears of sadness. She wiped them away and quickly got up.

She had to see him, right now.

She rushed to grab her shawl from the coat tree by the door, and leapt off the porch without a second thought.

But then she sighed and darted back into the house.

 _Going to see Gilbert,_ she hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper. She couldn't let Matthew and Marilla worry.

Then she ran.


	231. The Way Back

She did not think about her safety until she was nearly there.

She did not even realize she'd been running until her lungs began to give out.

She stopped, letting herself fall against a tree. For someone who'd barely _walked_ at all in the past few weeks, running now made her feel nauseas. She slumped down at the base of the tree and tried to breathe. She let her head fall back against the bark behind her. _Don't throw up, don't throw up,_ she told herself. _Ugh_.

She wished she had not run. She wished she had not come at all, but had stayed in the house. She looked at the world around her, and found herself frightened.

 _I'm moving too fast,_ she thought, panic rising in her chest. _I can't do this._

She thought about walking home, but she was a lot closer to Gilbert's house than she was to her own.

After a while she stood up slowly, feeling her legs tremble. She held on to the tree for support and thought about what to do.

Finally she decided to go to Gilbert's house just to ask if he would drive her home.

She walked slowly there, keeping watch all around her as she walked.

 _Billy's a million miles away,_ she told herself.

But that did not matter, because her concern over her safety was _not_ with Billy, but with _anyone_. She did not know who she could trust.

Before this happened, she could trust people until they gave her reason not to.

Now, she could not trust anyone until they had proven themselves to her. And maybe not even then.

Her heart was beating loudly in her ears and she was silently chanting _Stop. Stop. Stop._ with every thump.

When she arrived, she knocked shakily on the door. It was only a moment before the door was opened by Gilbert's father.

"Mr. Blythe!" She cried out, not expecting him to be the one to answer the door.

He was in his chair. He pulled the door open for her and then wheeled himself backward into the room to allow her space to enter.

She hugged him heartily, and he hugged her back with a strength he hadn't felt much of lately- Anne had given it back to him.

She pulled back and studied his face. Mr. Blythe had more color than he'd had weeks ago, but she also noticed he was significantly thinner.

But her worried expression changed quickly into a smile, for his sake.

"Anne, I'm _so_ happy to see you- are you all right? You look-"

But whatever he was going to say she looked like, Anne did not hear it. She stumbled, hitting the wall behind her and falling.

"Gilbert!" his father called, alarmed. He tried to lean down and lift her, but in his wheelchair he could do little for her.

Gilbert rushed into the room, worried his father had had an emergency. But as he came closer, he saw that his father was leaning out of his wheelchair over Anne's body.

Anne groaned and slowly rolled over onto her side. She sat up, touching her head as if she couldn't believe what had happened. "I'm sorry-" she began.

Gilbert crouched down in front of her. He put his hand to her head as though he thought he could somehow protect her from bruises. "Anne, are you- are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said, embarrassed, as he helped her back onto her feet. "Just got a bit dizzy…I…I was going to ask you to take me home…drive me...or at least walk with me."

"You…came over here to ask me to drive you home?" He looked confused. Then, looking at her ashen face, he said, "I don't think you ought to go anywhere just yet."

"Maybe…yeah. Maybe I can stay a few minutes," she said, swallowing.

She looked like she might pass out, and he quickly said, "Here, lie down," guiding her over to the sofa.

She sat down on the sofa, but looking at her, Gilbert shook his head and began putting the pillows behind her. "Never mind, I'm sorry, I know you can't lay on your back; just lean against the cushions. Let me get you some water."

But Anne felt she absolutely could lie down, and she did.

She tried to keep the nausea away, and put her cold hands on her hot forehead. When Gilbert came back, she lifted her head enough to drink the water, draining the glass in only a few gulps.

"I'm sorry," she said, still embarrassed. "I didn't mean to… _ugh_."

Gilbert's father wheeled closer to them. "Gilbert, get her something to eat. Just some crackers, Anne? It might help you."

She nodded painfully.

Gilbert left.

Mr. Blythe asked, "How did you get here?"

"I…ran," she said. "I wanted to see Gilbert- and you- right away, but I should have just waited for Matthew or Marilla to bring me over." She stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. This is embarrassing. To come over here and be sick the first moment you see me."

Gilbert came back into the room with a sleeve of crackers and some fruit.

Anne slowly lifted herself up and reached for the food, but closed her eyes when she felt the room spinning. She changed her mind and lay back down. "Never mind, I don't have to eat."

Gilbert and his father looked at each other. "Gilbert, break a cracker in half. Anne, could you eat it without sitting up, do you think?"

Anne took the cracker and lay it in her mouth as if she were taking communion. She left it on her tongue, letting it get soggy, and then swallowed it. Gilbert handed her half a slice of apple, and she put that in her mouth too. She did not get up.

She lay there for several minutes, until finally she felt that she could sit up without being sick all over their parlor rug.

She lifted herself up slowly and leaned on the cushions. "So how have you been?" she asked Mr. Blythe.

He almost laughed at her casual tone, after such a dramatic entrance.

"Well, I've surely improved upon seeing you. I just wish the reverse was true. I didn't think I looked so bad you'd be sick at the sight of me!" But he smiled teasingly, to let her know he was only kidding.

She smiled, and it reached her eyes. "I'll pretend I'm just now coming in… How do you do, Mr. Blythe?" she greeted him with grace and decorum.

He laughed and said in a refined, elegant manner, "I'm quite well. And how are you this lovely afternoon, Miss Shirley?"

"I am in better spirits than I am in good health," she announced, "But with such hospitable hosts, I am sure I will soon be restored."

Gilbert smiled, looking back and forth at them. "You're feeling better, then?"

"Yes," Anne said. "In more ways than one. …I hope I didn't show up at a bad time."

"There's no bad time to see my Anne-girl," Mr. Blythe said lovingly. "I'm happy you're here. I'm sorry you felt so sick just now, though."

Her face flushed. "I just…ran over here without thinking. I need to take things slow. It was a lot."

Gilbert nodded, looking concerned. "Yeah. I was surprised to see you. I mean, I'm _glad_. Just…surprised. Have you been doing a lot lately?"

"No, but I got up and walked around outside a little yesterday."

Gilbert didn't want to beat a dead horse, so he didn't say anything about her sprinting across fields when she'd only just begun walking.

"Well…I'm glad to hear you _want_ to get out, anyway," was all he said.

"I don't, not _really_ ," Anne said honestly. "That's why I was going to ask you to take me home. I would have gone on my own, but by the time I changed my mind, I was closer to your house than I was to Green Gables."

Anne did not want to leave two of her favorite people after only a few minutes of seeing them, especially not when she could tell that Mr. Blythe and Gilbert were both so happy she was here, but she knew she would feel better if she went home, because even just being here- in her _second_ home- was too difficult for her right now.

"I really _have_ missed you, Mr. Blythe," she told him. "I hope you don't think I didn't care about you." She was sad.

"I never thought you didn't care," he reassured her. "Gilbert told me you were having trouble over what happened to you."

She nodded, not looking at them.

"Is anything changing?" he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I _think_ so. I don't quite feel _myself_ , and I don't feel _better_ , exactly. But…but I've started to believe that the way I feel now won't be the way I feel forever- and that's giving me the courage to _try_."

She looked at the two of them, with so much love for her in their eyes.

She remembered something about those lost weeks: "Mr. Blythe, thank you for sending that quilt over with Gilbert that day. Telling me it was your hug since you couldn't see me. It meant _so_ much to me. I know it didn't seem like it did, since I didn't come see you- and I'm sorry for that- but I'll never forget that. It was the kindest, most loving thing."

Mr. Blythe's eyes were full of warmth.

"I…I think I need to go home," she said then, quietly- regretfully. "I'm sorry. I love you and I want to stay, but…I need to go home."

They understood.

"Anne, before you go- I have something for you," Mr. Blythe spoke up, wheeling his chair over to the corner of the parlor. He picked up a box from the table there, and brought it over to her.

"For me?" Anne asked.

"Yes. For your birthday. I know it's already past, but it didn't arrive on time, and then I thought maybe I'd just wait until I could see you. I'm so glad you're up out of bed- does my heart good! Here you go, then, open it."

She took the long, rectangular box from him and pulled off the paper slowly.

Anne had gotten more gifts in her time in Avonlea than she'd gotten in all the rest of her years combined, but the wonder of receiving one had not worn off yet. Her hands trembled at the thrill of even taking the lid off.

It was a doll.

She stared at it. She had not expected to be given a doll, especially not at her age. She would not have _asked_ for one, anyway. There were other things, at her age, that she'd have chosen. But…

"I asked Gilbert if you liked dolls, and he said you'd never had one."

"No, I haven't," Anne said. She was looking at the teeny tiny pearlish buttons on the dolls ivory colored boots.

"I thought it might be a silly present for a fourteenth birthday. You're probably too old to be interested in a doll."

If anyone had asked her in advance, she would have decided she was much too old for dolls.

But being too old for dolls did not cross her mind as she looked at the black ringlets and big, sparkling eyes. It's smile seemed to hold a secret. She let her finger caress the dark, fluttery eyelashes and then the cool porcelain face with dimpled cheeks.

"Gilbert thought so, too- that there are lots of other things you'd get more enjoyment out of."

Anne did not answer. She was busy looking at the tiny brass locket hanging from the doll's neck. She opened it to see a mirror no bigger than the size of her fingernail.

Mr. Blythe continued, "And I was afraid you might feel insulted by being given a gift meant for a little girl when you're so grown up. …But we can just send it back and get you something else instead?"

Anne moved to the bottom of the box, noticing that a sweet little lace parasol was tucked in next to the doll's boots. When she reached in to retrieve it, she felt something else next to the doll's boots. She pulled out a small velvet purse. Upon opening it, she was delighted to find that the doll had her very own pair of white kid gloves.

"Well…" she said, still looking at the doll. "Well, I'd hate to trouble you by having you return it…and I'm sure it's an annoyance to the manufacturer when customers mail things back…it would be easier on everyone just to keep it…"

They were both smiling when she looked up at them.

She couldn't help returning the smile. Then she laughed. "Maybe I _am_ too old for a doll. But I didn't know how much I _wanted_ one until I _saw_ it. It's _perfect_. She's _divine_. I _love_ her."

She hugged them both tight.

She took the doll out of the box and hugged it, too.

"You'll have to think of a name for her, then," Mr. Blythe said.

That was going to be Anne's favorite part.

Once she had opened her present, they did not try to get her to stay any longer. She had said she wanted to go, and they accepted that.

"All right then, Anne-girl, you have a good afternoon, and come back and see us any time you feel up to it."

Anne nodded, smiling, glad they weren't taking it personally that she wanted to go home.

She hugged Mr. Blythe again and then walked with Gilbert out to the buggy.

Once in the buggy, Anne felt better. She was on her way back, and she didn't have to go by herself.

Gilbert smiled at her. "I'm _so_ glad to see you, Anne. I can't say it enough."

She smiled at him, squeezing the doll box to her. The buggy pulled away from the house, and they were on their way.

"I'm glad to see you, too," she told him. "I've missed you. …I know it doesn't make any sense to say I missed you when _you_ were coming to visit me and I refused to let you in! But…everything was just so mixed up. I'm sorry."

Then she sighed. "…And I'm sorry not to stay at your house today…I _wanted_ to, but…" Her hands started to shake as she thought about how she'd come so far from home and she just wasn't _ready_ to.

He reached over and, seeing her, he took her hand. "It doesn't matter. The important thing is that you felt like trying, right?"

"I had a visitor," she decided to tell him. "That's what _really_ made me feel like I could start trying to do things again. Dr. Carter found this lady- her name is Lydia- and she came to see me, because…"

He looked over at her.

"She had been violated by a man, too," she said quietly. "She talked to me about how she got through it."

He nodded slowly, still holding her hand, and wondering if he should ask her about it, or if he shouldn't pry.

But Anne told him, "She talked to me about…well, a lot of things. And I started to feel like maybe I could go on living."

 _Another_ thing that made her feel she could go on living was the spark that passed from his hand to hers.

"And- Gilbert," she began, "If you _still_ want to get married-"

"If I still _want_ to?" Gilbert asked in surprise.

"You _do?_ " she asked, just as surprised.

"Of course I do! _"_ he exclaimed, "Do _you?_ I just- you kept saying- I thought- Anne, _will_ you marry me?"

"Well, not right now, but…wait, did you just propose?" Anne asked, cracking a smile.

"I…I think I did," Gilbert said. "No, that wasn't right. I can't ask while we're driving."

Anne looked at the ground. It was pure mud. "Well, you can't get _out_ of the buggy."

Gilbert smiled. "This is all wrong. I don't even have a ring. …Forget I ever said that!"

"I _can't_ forget it," Anne said with a little smile.

"All right," Gilbert laughed. "Fine. Then consider it the _practice_ proposal. It was…a rough draft. The final copy will be improved, and delivered later."

Anne laughed.

"And I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to ask someone before I ask you. Mr. Cuthbert, I guess? The whole ' _Do I have your blessing to ask Anne to marry me?'_ kind of thing. So I better keep him on my good side." He grinned at her.

"Actually, I told them we were getting married," Anne announced.

Gilbert looked over at her, eyebrows raised. "What did they say to that?"

"Marilla said she'd start working on my dress. …Matthew said I could have any kind of dress I wanted."

Gilbert couldn't have been more surprised.

Anne explained, "Well, to be truthful, it was when they were afraid I was hurting myself…I think they were ready to go along with _anything_ I said…If I'd told them I wanted to go to the moon they'd have started building a ladder!"

"I know how they felt," Gilbert said quietly. "I'd have danced on my head for you if you wanted me to."

He was still holding her hand, now he lifted it up and kissed it. "…I'm sorry you were so down."

"I think I'll be better soon- well, I don't know if _soon_. But eventually I will be." She smiled.

Then he grinned at her. "I hope they'll _still_ let you even when you're better, otherwise we'll have to elope."

"If we elope, your father can't be there," Anne pointed out. Though after she said it, her stomach hurt with the realization that if they waited _too_ long, he might not be there anyway.

Gilbert was saying, "I'm glad you finally realized it doesn't matter to me what you can't do, the only thing that matters is that we won't have to be apart." He looked like he could float right up to the clouds when he told her, "Imagine the first time we can spend the whole day together without having to say goodbye at the end."

Anne looked at him with adoration and said, "Goodnight is _so_ much better than goodbye."

"The thing is, whenever we _do_ get married," she went on, then- a bit embarrassed, her cheeks growing pink, "I think it might be that we _can_ be the same as other married couples."

He looked over at her warily. "Anne…look, I'm glad you're feeling better, but don't feel like you have to-"

"I don't," Anne spoke up. "And I know it won't be easy- and I'm not sure how _soon_ …I suppose we might go ahead and get married, but it could be quite a long time before we can…do that. But I think we _can_. Because I know now that it _doesn't_ have to be like what I was _afraid_ of."

"I would hope not," Gilbert said. "I wouldn't want it to be."

Talking about intimate relations was making them both feel awkward, though there was some relief in knowing that it wasn't something that had to keep them apart anymore. Once this had been revealed, they both felt they could take a deep breath and move forward without uncertainties.

Green Gables was within sight now, and Gilbert asked, "Is the lady who visited you- Lydia, you said her name was?- is she still here?"

"Oh, no, she was just here for that one day," Anne explained. "But she said I can write to her if I want to."

Gilbert was glad.

"She gave me a journal, too," Anne told him. "A really nice one. Come in and I'll show it to you. And maybe we could start putting together that jigsaw puzzle you left for me."

Gilbert grinned, "You finally opened it?"

Anne nodded happily. "My favorite part was your card, though, Gilbert- but I could feel the pain in your words. And I'm _so_ sorry for you. You've been so patient with me."

Gilbert squeezed her hand again. "I love you," he said simply. "And I can't say it enough."

Anne felt tears come into her eyes. She moved closer to him. He let go of her hand so he could reach back to put his arm around her.

As they got closer to the house, Gilbert asked, "Do you think I could start coming over again?"

"Nothing would make me happier," Anne told him honestly.

Gilbert smiled.

"And…and maybe I could come see your father," she said hesitantly. "I _want_ to, it's just…being _out_ is…"

"I get it. It's still new," he said, understanding. "Well, listen, I'll come over every day after school, and any time you feel like coming over, we'll go to my house. All right?"

Gilbert really wanted Anne to come back to school, but he knew school would have to wait.

But he decided to give her some news about school, anyway: "So Mr. Phillips is leaving at the end of this year. I heard there's been some pressure from the school board."

"Who's going to be the teacher, then?" Anne asked worriedly. She did not like Mr. Phillips, and would not miss him, but change- any change- was hard for her now.

"Well," Gilbert said with interest, "They've already engaged a teacher for the fall. A lady."

"A lady?" Anne asked. "I wonder what she'll be like."

Gilbert smiled. "Guess we'll have to wait and see. There's only two months of school left- well, and then summer- but fall will be here before you know it."

His words brought Anne right back to Lydia's warning about what the upcoming fall could mean for her.

Gilbert noticed the way her face suddenly tightened up. "What is it?" he asked.

Anne leaned on him a little bit. " _Ohh_ , Lydia gave me some bad news. About fall."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert accidentally let go of the reins.

"She said that when you come up on the anniversary of the…of what happened, that things get worse for a little while."

Gilbert could not imagine things getting worse.

"It's because of what happens in the fall. The leaves, and the air, the smell- all of it. It might make me feel like I'm right back to the time it happened." She closed her eyes briefly, trying to push away the memory.

"When fall comes," he told her, trying not to show how worried he felt, "You'll be all right. We'll get through it together."

Gilbert wondered if Anne would be able to come back to school _at all_. There were only eight weeks left in the school year. If it took her a couple weeks- or longer- to feel ready to come back to school, she'd barely have any time left in the year at all before school stopped for the summer. And in the fall she might stop going again…

While his first concern was for how she _felt_ , he was also concerned that she wouldn't be able to reach her goal of becoming a teacher.

She rested her head against him for just a moment, and then sat up straighter, saying, "I've got to go back to school right away. I don't feel ready, but…I've _got_ to. If I can't get back on track with school right now, fall will be even harder. …I'll probably have to repeat the year."

"Maybe not," Gilbert told her. "You can get all caught up. We'll work together. Just like we always have."

Anne did not look convinced.

Gilbert looked at her. "You're going to be an amazing teacher," he assured her. "But don't feel like you _have_ to start a career, because you don't. Not if it becomes too much to take on. If we already know we're getting married someday, then it's not as if you _have_ to worry about providing for yourself."

"Yes, but…" Anne trailed off, realizing that she might not be able to have both.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, looking over at her.

"Well, I just thought. I _want_ to be a teacher, but…I can't have it both ways. I won't be allowed to teach if I'm married. I'd have to give it up. If I don't, we can't get married."

Gilbert had thought about this before, and now he said, "Teach as long as you want to. At some point you'll get tired of those little monsters and you'll _want_ to give it up, and _then_ we'll get married." He grinned at her.

Anne smiled. "And then have our own little monster?"

Gilbert looked offended, but only in jest. " _Ours_ won't be a monster. Only _other_ people's. _Ours_ will be perfect."

Anne laughed. Then she said, "But you won't mind- really? Waiting to get married because I want to be a teacher first?"

"I don't care how long we have to wait, as long as we get to be together in the end," he told her. "Anyway, Anne, I'll need time to get my own career started, remember. I'll be in school a long time."

"You're going to be a wonderful doctor," Anne told him seriously. "Because you care so much about people."

Gilbert smiled. "I hope so. I hope I can make you proud of me."

Anne was surprised. "I already am!"

They were pulling up to Green Gables now. Gilbert got out of the buggy and offered his hand to Anne.

Marilla came out of the house, pulling off an apron. "Anne," she said, relieved. "I'm glad to see you. I was starting to worry."

"Did you see my note?" Anne asked, sounding anxious.

"Yes," Marilla said calmly, knowing how easily upset Anne could get now. "But I worried about you going off on your own. You ought to have waited for us to come drive you."

She added, "Not because you _can't_ go on your own- but you've barely been out of the house at all and I think it's too much for you to walk all the way over there- oh, hello, Gilbert- thank you for bringing her home."

"Yes, ma'am," Gilbert said. "Good afternoon."

"You're right, Marilla," Anne said glumly. "I tried to go by myself. It didn't go very well. I asked Gilbert to bring me home."

"What's that you've got there?" Marilla asked her as they walked into the house.

Anne was still holding the box that contained her new treasure, now she squeezed it to her as she said, "A birthday present from Mr. Blythe."

"What is it?" Marilla asked, interested.

"Oh," Anne said, setting the box down on the parlor sofa and lifting the lid. "Isn't she just _scrumptious?"_

Marilla said softly, "Well, it is a nice gift, isn't it? He's very kind to you."

And Marilla and Gilbert smiled at each other, glad for Anne to use one of her flowery words, each thinking that something must be coming back to her.


	232. Another New Day

The next day Gilbert had a letter, but he put off reading it until after he went to see Anne.

"I must be hopelessly behind in math," Anne said despondently as she sat in her room with Gilbert.

After pushing herself yesterday to stray beyond Green Gables- and feeling the panic and nausea it brought on- Anne did not _want_ to go out again, but she would not allow herself to stay in her bed, and pushed herself to at least be out of bed enough to sit by her window.

Everyone thought that because Anne wanted to feel better, and was committed to it, she ought to be allowed to move ahead at her own pace. They were disappointed when she wanted to stay in her room to do the school work, but happy that she had suggested she and Gilbert go outside for a walk when they were finished.

So she and Gilbert had pushed the furniture out of the way and sat on the floor where the sunlight made a large, slanted square of light on the wood floor, warming it, and they spread their books and papers out around them.

"We've been doing geometry, mostly," Gilbert told her.

"Glorious," she said with a sigh. "A whole new topic."

"You'll get it," Gilbert encouraged. He moved back to the beginning of his book, knowing they'd have to start from scratch.

After about an hour, Marilla came in to check up on them. "I brought you a snack," she said, setting a tray down on the desk chair beside them.

The snack made it easier to keep working.

They'd been working on geometry for nearly three hours when Anne finally said, "I hate geometry."

Gilbert laughed.

She stretched and said, "Maybe we should stop for today."

But then she thought about how she had _told_ everyone that after working on math, she was going to go walk outside. "I don't think we ought to take a walk after all," she said carefully. "You should get home to your father."

Gilbert shook his head. "We have our old housekeeper back, remember?"

Anne's heart sank. "Oh yeah," she said. "Well…it might rain."

Gilbert looked at the sky- clear and blue- and at the sunshine that poured in one them. "Anne, don't you _want_ to go?"

"I _do_ ," she said. "It's just…"

"What?"

"Yesterday."

"Oh. …But that was just because you ran, and you're not used to running. And you went too far. Today won't be like that."

She nodded, trying to feel brave.

"Come on," he said, standing up and holding his hand out to her. "Let's just walk to the brook and back. Could we do that?"

"I suppose," Anne said, telling herself that things would never seem easier if she didn't push herself.

They held hands going down the stairs, but let go as they came into the kitchen. "Marilla," Anne said, "We're going to walk outside now."

Marilla smiled, happy Anne was going to try again.

Gilbert and Anne left, and as soon as they were out of the house they came back together, hardly a space between them as they walked side by side holding hands.

Marilla was watching them from the window.

She liked Gilbert, and she'd be forever grateful to him. But sometimes she was concerned that they were becoming _too_ close.

Maybe she ought to have a talk with them.

* * *

 _The church here isn't as boring as church in Avonlea. Or maybe I just pay attention more, now. But the pastor's younger and he talks TO you instead of AT you._

 _On Saturday we're going to an orphan's home to give them a party. I helped build the set for the puppet show we're going to do. I think it looks pretty good._

Gilbert scanned the rest of the letter. He wasn't particularly interested in anything Billy had to say, but he had promised to write, and he thought of it as a service to the community. Maybe he could prompt something in Billy, something to change him. And unless Billy was being dishonest in his letters, he did seem to be making an attempt at being a decent person. Gilbert wondered if it would last.

After Anne's happiness, that was what Gilbert wanted most- to know that Billy would never cause harm to anyone.

 _How's Anne?_

Gilbert was stopped in his tracks. He couldn't believe Billy thought he should be given any news about Anne.

Even if Billy had decided he actually _did_ care about Anne's well-being, it really wasn't his right to know her business. Billy should not be in Anne's life at all, even indirectly.

But after a moment Gilbert cooled down, and then he thought that maybe Billy only asked because he felt _obligated_ to ask- after all, Billy knew he'd caused a problem, maybe he was under the impression that he was expected to check in on the problem.

But Gilbert did not want to tell Billy anything about Anne, unless Anne gave him permission to. And Anne _couldn't_ give him permission, because he had no intention of even telling her that Billy had asked about her.

He finally decided to be honest about the reality of what Billy had caused, but without giving out any real information about Anne, and then use that as a way to prompt Billy to want to change:

 _She's not doing well, but I suppose that's just how it's going to be for her now. There might be other things you could do for the orphans you're helping- what about holding a clothing drive at your church? I bet there are lots of families who have clothes their children have outgrown. Maybe you could collect them and bring them to the orphanage. I think it's great you're doing something for orphans. They need it._

He wrote a little more about other things Billy had said in his letter, and once he thought his letter was a sufficient length, he signed and sealed it.

He wondered if Billy would ask about Anne again.


	233. Spring

WOW. It is surreal to me it's almost done. Thanks for staying with me guys, I know it took forever.

So after this chapter there ARE still three (ish? I might split one) chapters, BUT they are all basically written I'll just go over them again before posting to make sure, and…so everything is done and **this will all end before Monday!**

 _…MONDAY! : )_

* * *

Marilla stopped and set her mixing bowl down. What was that noise?

She paused and listened. Yes, there it was again. It sounded like Anne was closing her bedroom door and coming down the stairs, but then she turned around and went back up, going back into her room- only to come out and start down the stairs again a moment later.

She kept listening, and realized that Anne had done this four times.

Worried that Anne was upset- struggling to come downstairs and not being able to- she went quickly up to her.

"Anne," she said, reaching her just as Anne was heading back into her room. "Anne, are you all right?"

When she came in, Anne was standing in the middle of her floor, holding her doll in her arms, and looking at her room around her.

"Oh, dear, what is it?" Marilla came up to her.

Anne turned to her. She said, "I'm trying to decide where to put my doll."

Marilla nearly collapsed. Then, with sort of a _harrumph_ noise, she turned to leave her.

"Wait! Marilla I need _advice_ ," Anne begged.

"What about?" Marilla asked, concerned again.

"About where to put my _doll_. See, I _wanted_ to put her in the window, so I can see her when I'm outside. But then I thought that won't do, because her dress will get _faded_ by the _sun_ , and-"

 _And I'm not making you another one. Heaven knows I've got enough to do without sewing clothes for a_ _ **doll**_ _._

"So, then I was going to put her on my dresser. But-"

"Why must you keep tramping up and down the stairs on this quest of yours?" Marilla asked.

"Because I was imagining that I was coming upstairs to my room after a long day of school. See, I'm trying to figure out where I like _seeing_ her when I first come _in."_

"Oh," Marilla said.

"And I was _going_ to put her on my dresser. But the last time I came into the room, I realized that she won't be facing the _door_ , and I want-"

"Why don't you put her on your bed?" Marilla directed, ready to be done with the conversation. "Girls always keep their favorite dolls on their bed."

"Do they?" Anne asked. "I wouldn't know."

"So put her there, and come downstairs. I want you to help me with these biscuits."

"All right," Anne said, but she took too long to arrange her little accessories around her, and Marilla left her and went back to the kitchen.

Before coming downstairs, Anne turned around and gave one last loving look to her little gable room. Having a doll on her bed made her whole bedroom look so…

…She couldn't think of a good enough word, but she was sure she'd find one soon.

* * *

Anne did better the next week.

She came out of her room every day and stayed downstairs.

She went outside with Gilbert in the afternoons, when he came to visit her after school, and they began to walk further and further away from the house.

She started going outside and being Matthew's shadow. Matthew enjoyed having Anne with him as he worked. She had started to talk more, and it lifted Matthew's heart up to hear her.

Eventually she began to linger in the barn to talk to Jerry.

They were becoming friends.

Diana began to visit, and then Ruby, and then Tillie. And Anne knew that Jane would have, too, if she had been allowed to. Josie didn't come, but Anne got the strong impression that it was not out of any ill will, but out of embarrassment.

One day, Anne decided she could go to Diana's house.

When she came home, she told Marilla she'd like to stay overnight- that Mrs. Barry had asked her, and she thought she could do it. No one wanted to be too eager, in case she would become overwhelmed, so they just told her that that would be fine. Marilla helped her pack a small bag, and Matthew drove her over. He kissed her goodbye, and then left her.

Anne stood on the porch with Diana, holding her doll, and waving to Matthew as he headed back home.

Matthew had a troubled sleep that night, and more than once he looked out the window toward the Barry's, wondering if Anne was all right.

Marilla herself heard the hour strike several times before she slept.

But in the late morning when Matthew came to get Anne, she chattered happily all the way home about what it had been like to stay in the spare room talking all night and eating cookies in bed.

* * *

Gilbert continued receiving letters from Billy, and wrote him back every time, though he sometimes struggled for things to say.

He mostly talked to Billy about church, telling Billy what they had been hearing about in the sermons, because that was a safe, neutral topic, and one that might be beneficial.

He mailed Billy the sermon notes he took, too.

Billy told Gilbert that _he_ had started taking notes during church sermons, too. Gilbert wondered if this was true, and if it was, if it meant Billy was really trying to learn something that might change the way he treated others.

Billy often asked for Gilbert's advice on various matters.

One day Gilbert was reading a letter from Billy, and Billy was telling him about something he was working on again at the orphan's home, when suddenly Billy stopped mid-sentence and asked,

 _Is she all right yet?_

The question seemed to come out of the blue, and Anne's name was not mentioned in the letter at all. But Gilbert knew immediately that it was Anne that Billy was asking about.

He had asked about Anne before, many times, and besides that initial time, Gilbert had not answered his questions.

But now, after thinking about it, Gilbert managed a reply.

He wanted Billy to stop asking him about Anne.

And he wanted Billy to understand _why_ he shouldn't ask about her.

 _It's kind of a hard truth, Billy- that sometimes you do things that can't be reversed._

 _I don't think 'all right' is possible anymore. She'll figure out how to go on, because she'll have to, but things can't be the same._

 _And there's nothing you can do about that._

 _Except pray- for yourself, that you'll be able to change…if you haven't asked God to forgive you, now would be a good time to do that._

 _And then you'll have to let it go, because you can't make it better._

 _What you_ _ **can**_ _do, Billy, is keep working to make_ _ **other**_ _people's lives better. It won't help Anne, but you'll be helping_ _ **someone**_ _, and that's the best you can do. So do your best for others._

Billy did not ask about Anne again.

Gilbert thought that Billy finally realized he could not make her life better by having a presence in it- even just in thought- or by asking about it: the thing she needed most was for him to fade away.

His guilt would be _his_ burden to bear; he could not seek to ease his conscience through news of her.

* * *

After two weeks, Anne began to miss school. She always knew she wanted to go back, but the thought had terrified her. Now, it only made her slightly apprehensive. Her curiosity about the life of the school was beginning to outweigh any fear she had.

The thought of becoming a teacher was igniting her passion to go back. She wanted to strive toward the future she'd dreamed of. And she wanted to live again.


	234. From Here on Out

While Anne was thinking about going to school, Marilla was thinking about her talk with Anne and Gilbert.

At first she thought she would just talk with Anne, mother to daughter. But then she decided that the conversation needed to be between Anne and Gilbert, too- that she didn't want Anne to sort things out with Gilbert on her own, instead, she needed to sit them both down together for a serious discussion about their intentions and what kind of boundaries they needed to set from here on out. For instance, Marilla thought there was entirely too much physical contact between them right now. It was not normal for a girl her age to have a boy in her bedroom, or for them to go off on their own holding hands. She understood that it had arisen from Anne's unique situation, but at _this_ point, things were starting to get back to normal, and so her and Gilbert's relationship needed to get back to normal, too.

When Gilbert came over, expecting to walk away with Anne as they had been doing, Marilla said, "Hold off on your walk, I'd like to talk to you two for a moment."

Anne and Gilbert looked at each other. They did not know what Marilla wanted to talk about, but how serious she sounded caused them both to feel a pit in their stomachs.

"Sit down," Marilla said, trying to sound softer since she realized she had frightened them with her tone.

She wanted to handle this just right. It would not do for them to feel attacked. They had to know that her intentions were to help them, not to criticize them. She could not be the adversary.

"I think it's nice you've become such close…friends," she began.

Anne reached for Gilbert's hand under the table. He squeezed it.

"But there's been talk of marrying."

Neither one said a word.

Marilla sat quiet so long that the ticking of the clock became loud. She was trying to think of how to proceed, but Anne felt she must fill up the silence, and began talking in a rush, "I know I said that, but Marilla, I was just upset at the time-"

"I don't want you to tell me falsehoods," Marilla cautioned. "If that has been a subject of conversation between the two of you, and I think it _has_ , then I don't want you to lie to me and tell me it hasn't."

Neither said anything.

"You both know you're too young for marriage."

They looked at each other.

"But you won't _always_ be."

Marilla went on, warning: "I don't want you to rush into things, and I don't want you to feel committed to each other when it's entirely possible you'll grow apart and find other people in the years between now and when you're old enough for marriage."

Anne and Gilbert were both thinking that that simply wasn't possible.

Marilla turned to Gilbert, "If we were in an ordinary situation, Anne seeing a boy at her age would be out of the question. But Anne grew dependent on you, and _we_ in turn did as well. Sometimes circumstances force a change in customs." She took a deep breath. "Bonds have been formed, and I don't think we would have much success in keeping you apart, or that it would even be realistic to try."

Anne and Gilbert did not know how to respond to this.

"I think the matter we must discuss is how to handle things moving forward. I don't have any doubts about both of you maintaining your purity- after what Anne has been through I don't imagine she has any prurient interest, and Gilbert, you, being so sensitive to her plight, are surely not going to pressure her."

"No, ma'am," Gilbert said softly.

"Even so…we must set boundaries now. I want you to understand this is not me trying to keep you apart, rather it is me trying to make sure that your ties to each other are kept wholesome as they should be before marriage."

They nodded.

"First of all, it is no longer appropriate for you to be in Anne's bedroom as you have been. …We were in a desperate situation, but as things are improving, surely we must realize that that should stop."

"All right," Anne said softly. Gilbert nodded.

"And second, I don't believe it is wise for Anne to invite you in if she's alone in the house. That's not to say I think anything will happen. But it doesn't look well for a girl to have boys in when her parents are not home. If…if you come over and Anne is alone, you ought to come back another time."

Looking at Anne's fearful face, and realizing that even though she was getting better, she might still get scared when she's alone, Marilla relented a little bit: "If you come when Anne's alone, and she believes she _needs_ you there, I suppose it might be all right for you to stay- but only if the two of you stay outside- you can sit on the porch, where anyone could come along and see you. Or you could take Anne to your house, since your father and your housekeeper would be there. The idea is that you are not in an empty house together. Do you understand?"

They nodded solemnly.

"Good, that's out of the way, then. My _other_ concern…I think both of you need to consider how much physical contact you have given each other."

Anne and Gilbert, in unison, swallowed nervously.

"The more contact there is now, the more difficult it will be to wait for marriage. I know that neither of you want to do anything wrong. ... The trouble is, it won't _feel_ wrong."

"So…we can't…do anything?" Anne asked, and then, realizing that saying ' _anything'_ did not sound good, she clarified, "We can't hold hands?"

"I think you are both being brought up properly…you will have to rely on your moral conscience."

Anne and Gilbert looked at each other. They did not expect the conversation to go this way. They thought they'd be ordered to keep away from each other.

"So what do you think?" Marilla asked them.

They were both thinking that "the right answer"- the answer Marilla wanted to hear- was to say they'd never touch each other again.

But Marilla said, "It is my _opinion_ that it would be unwise for you to hug each other when you're _alone_. But as I won't always be with you, you must make wise decisions for yourself and refrain from things you know could lead you down a path to immorality."

Anne and Gilbert looked at each other.

Marilla was giving them an opinion. As if she _really_ thought they could make good decisions. So Anne, wanting to prove herself, said, "We can have more restraint. Maybe...do you think it would be all right to hug just when we say goodbye?"

"Is that a standard you feel you can hold yourselves to?" Marilla asked them both.

They both nodded.

Marilla said, "All right. If that's what you're agreeing to- that you're only going to hug when you say goodbye, then I expect you to keep your word."

She gave them a smile. "You may go. I know you're anxious to get out and walk."

Anne said, "Wait- we can still go? I thought you'd say we can't go off by ourselves anymore."

Marilla paused. "Well, I don't want you alone in an empty house. But if you're in public…or outside…yes, you can still take walks."

They were both glad they could still be alone a little bit, even if they couldn't all the time like they were used to.

"And save your hug for when you say goodbye, because that's what _you_ decided."

They wanted to hug each other right now, but they held off, waiting for when they said goodbye, and grateful they still could at all.


	235. Lovers

Anne and Gilbert kept their word- only hugging when they parted- but where they used to find it hard to separate, they now they found more and more reasons to say goodbye.

When Gilbert left, Anne hugged him. And then she picked up the book he'd left behind and ran across the field after him to return it. And then they had to say goodbye again.


	236. The Town of Avonlea

The town of Avonlea had had it's share of whispers and gossip over the years as every small town had, but it had never before been rocked by such a scandal. There would always be a few people that did not believe Anne's story, and a few that blamed her despite believing it.

But Anne became strong enough to be confident when those issues presented themselves, and wise enough to know that as long as she herself knew the truth, and her family and friends supported her, then it did not matter what a few people whispered about.

Mr. Phillips stayed only till the end of the school year, and then he left, finding a position elsewhere, never to return to Avonlea. Precious few missed him.

The coming fall, a new teacher would arrive in Avonlea, and she would bring with her changes that again rocked Avonlea, and took the focus off of Anne. Miss Stacy captured every child with her passion for learning, and the school was never the same- in a wonderful way.


	237. The Andrews Family, Later

The Andrews family would never be the same.

Billy would come home at Christmastime, but he stayed home with them and did not go into town or see any of his old friends. Four days after Christmas, they took him back on the train, and he was off again. His mother grieved over the loss of her son, because things were never the same between him and his family- starting a new life, separate from them- had changed him. He was still himself, and he always would be- but there were new things beginning to grow, too, and it marked a separation between his new life in Nova Scotia and the life in Avonlea he'd always known.

Anne and Jane remained friendly at school, but, besides a timid apology to Anne, they never spoke of the past or what had happened. Anne knew that Jane received letters from Billy, and that she often went to visit him in Nova Scotia with her family, but Jane never talked about that when Anne was around, and Anne never talked to Jane about her feelings toward Billy. It was better this way. It hurt Jane to think of what her brother had done, and it hurt Anne to think of sweet, innocent Jane having to listen the details of the terrible pain her brother had caused, so she spared her of that. Anne felt that, after herself, Jane was the one who had been hurt the most by this. She knew Jane felt guilt for what her brother had done to her friend- and she had risked everything, to the point of the love of her very own family- to do what was _right_. And she would be dealing with the fallout from that for the rest of her life. They were suffering alongside each other, each in their own way.

When Jane's birthday came, Jane brought a cake in to school and the girls enjoyed it at lunch time. Anne knew that Jane had brought the cake to school because she would not be invited to the birthday party that Jane's parents held for her. The other girls, who had gone, were sensitive to this and did not mention the party in front of Anne. Anne chose not to be upset by this; she knew that it was not Jane's fault and she was comforted by the fact that she had brought in a cake to her, because it meant that Jane had truly wanted Anne to share in her birthday.

She would not be welcome at Jane's house, and she was not sure that Jane's parents would allowed Jane to come to Green Gables. There had been so much damage done between the Cuthberts and the Andrews, and what happened between two families could not be mended. There was a hedge there, one that couldn't be crossed. But she and Jane would still be school-day friends, and perhaps someday things would be different. Perhaps someday they would be as close as two sisters. Anne hoped so with all her heart, and by Jane's kindness toward her, she knew that Jane was hoping, too.


	238. The End: Anne, Anew

Whew…ok, guys, this is it. The end.

But please, just a quick note to you before you start reading this final chapter:

If you have been with me through this long and difficult story, I want you to know how much I truly appreciate not being alone in this. Thank you. The follows, the favorites, the reviews…I have- and continue to be- blown away by how much you guys cared about my story.

* * *

 **THE FINAL CHAPTER**

 _"'And perhaps-when this horrible ache grows a little less-I'll find that I can go on living.' Anne found that she could go on living; the day came when she even smiled again…But there was something in the smile that had never been in Anne's smile before and would never be absent from it again."_ -Anne's House of Dreams

One day, Anne and Gilbert began to walk, further than they ever had before. They walked until they reached the field at the end of their property, just before the woods began.

And as they walked, Anne told him what she'd been thinking of for a long time.

"I've decided something," she told him. "I've decided I'm ready to go back to school. I'm going to start tomorrow."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "School, eh? Does that mean you feel like you're…all right?"

"No," she said, firmly shaking her head. Then she gave him a smile: "But I _will be."_

Her smile made it's way across her face and he found himself wanting so badly to place a kiss there- _some_ where, _anywhere_ , from the end of her freckles to where that porcelain cheek curved with her grin. But he held back.

"I hate that you missed your birthday," he finally said.

She gave a little shrug, as if it had to be accepted. "But Marilla is going to have a little party for me- now that I'm up and doing things again. She said I could invite all the girls and she'd make a cake and we'd play games and…she said we'll just pretend my birthday came a little late."

He smiled. "I'm glad. Your birthday ought to be celebrated. You're starting a whole new year of your life."

She took a big breath as she realized it was true. "A new year ahead of me. Maybe it'll be a fresh start."

"I can't wait to see everybody," she went on. "I mean at _school_. The girls have been so nice, coming over, but…being at school, with everyone else, it'll feel so…normal."

Then she asked him, "How's Moody holding up? He's all Ruby talks about."

Gilbert laughed. "Actually, I think Moody feels exactly the same way about Ruby as Ruby feels about him. Which is good, because Ruby deserves to have someone who likes her so genuinely and so fully. …They're really sweet together."

Anne nodded, happy for Ruby. Then she asked, sounding worried: "What about Josie? I haven't dared ask anyone, but with Billy gone…I know she liked him, and all this was hard for her, too…"

"Oh, she'll have a whole string of beaus soon enough, and she'll forget all about him," Gilbert told her, brushing that worry away.

Anne bit her lip. "It must be nice to be _pretty_. I don't expect Josie will have any trouble marrying one day, if that's what she wants."

"Is it still what _you_ want?" Gilbert asked, wanting to know. "To get married?"

"Are you going to propose _again_ , Gil? It's a lovely place, out in this field, with the flowers all around us." She smiled, almost laughing.

Gilbert _did_ laugh. "No, I can't propose yet. Even though I want to. Would you rather me wait until _you've_ got a string of beaus, so that I have to do daring deeds to win your love?"

"You've already won my love. I don't want a string of beaus. I just want one, in his right mind. Gil, do you think that we could be happier now?" Anne asked with a tremble. "I feel we've had so many bad times together..."

"That means all the good times are still to come," he reassured her with a smile. "Don't you know how much I love you, Anne? I can hardly _wait_ until there are no more goodbyes."

Anne remembered how it wasn't very long ago that she had told Gilbert, _"Goodnight is so much better than goodbye."_

Anne smiled, color coming into her cheeks. Then she said, "You know, it's funny how everything can change. I never saw marriage as an option, really. Beauty seems so important, doesn't it? And when you look like I do, well…"

Gilbert shook his head, smiling at her. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do." He took a breath. "Someday- but not until you're ready for it- I'm going to ride up to Green Gables. I'll get down from a white horse and fall at Mr. Cuthbert's feet and I'll say to him, 'My good man, I ask of you, I _beg_ of you, to give me your blessing to enter into a most divine courtship with your darling daughter Anne, a rare gem, whom I am desperately, hopelessly, ridiculously smitten with, and have been for all of eternity…for if you refuse me, I shall lie down on this very spot where I now stand, and I shall perish- my only comfort that she might water my grave with her tears.'"

"Now you're making fun of me," Anne said, laughing in spite of herself.

"All right, so I took a bit of creative license," Gilbert said. "You're not the only one who can deal in tragical romance."

Smiling back at him, Anne said, "Maybe one of these days we can write a story together."

Gilbert didn't say anything. He just smiled at her with that smile- what had his father called it? Impish. The smile that his father had known in a love long past, and that she herself had grown to cherish.

Gilbert felt like writing a story with her right now. But he couldn't, because it wasn't time. So instead he took her hands in his own, feeling the place where- he hoped- his ring would someday be, and stood with her among the wildflowers.

Anne looked down at their hands intertwined.

"They're already blooming," Gilbert remarked after a moment, looking out at the field.

"What?" Anne asked.

"The wild carrot," he said. "Wild carrot only blooms in the summer and fall. But here it is- still spring- and they're blooming already."

Anne looked at the field, full of the white blossoms. "Poor things," she said wistfully. "To be so lovely but be called _carrot_."

Gilbert smiled. "Words are funny, aren't they? Funny…and powerful. Even though they have a definition, and the definition is the same for everyone, they call to mind such different things for every person. The word _carrot_ to you is something detestable, but to me, there's no word more extraordinary."

"But," he said, starting anew, "I recently found out that wild carrot has _another_ name, and so I'm not going to call it wild carrot anymore."

Anne was about to ask what, when he suddenly dropped her hands and said, "I best be getting on home now. I need to start supper for my father. I'll walk you home, and then I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Sure," Anne said. "Of course."

But then, breathing in the fresh spring breeze, she had a sudden feeling of her old self- _the old Anne_ \- creeping up, taking timid steps back into her heart again, in a way that it hadn't before, and so she told him, "You know what? You don't have to walk me home. I think I want to stay right here in this field."

"All right, I'll stay-"

She shook her head. "No," she explained. "I'm going to see that I can be alone in the great outdoors again. Like I used to be, back when these fields were my friends."

He looked at her with the slightest trepidation- his concern, first and foremost, would always be her safety- but as he saw her eyes change, his own began to glow with pride in her.

"Will you meet me here tomorrow?" he asked. "And we can walk to school together?"

She nodded, and she leaned in, her cheek against his shoulder, as they embraced- holding their promise only to hug when they said goodbye- and each thinking about the days when there would _be_ no more goodbyes.

"Oh, by the way, I saved this for you." He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small piece of newsprint, torn out of a periodical. He handed it to her, gave her one last smile, and headed for home.

Anne watched him walk away until he disappeared from her sight across the meadow, and then she looked down to read what he had given her.

" _Wild Carrot:_ _Daucus carota, is a white, flowering plant in the family Apiaceae. It is native to temperate regions of Europe and southwest Asia, but has been naturalized to North America and Australia. It is commonly called wild carrot, but another name often used is Queen Anne's Lace._ "

Anne put it in her pocket. Many years later, she would still have that tiny, torn piece of newsprint. It would be yellowed and crinkled and faded with age, but still cherished just as much as the day she'd received it.

Anne touched the pocket that held her newfound treasure, and was about to turn and head for home out of habit- but instead she remembered the way she _used_ to feel, and she lingered in the meadow, it's beauty re-awakened for her- and after a timid false start, she laid down in it, appreciating the soft, tall green grass, the daisies drooping over her head, and even the damp mud on her dress that she already knew Marilla would scold her for later. She sighed, joyful in the promise that after every winter, spring would come again.

 _This is my safe place,_ she thought. It was the first time since the attack that she had been able to lay down in the outdoors. _This very spot, among the flowers in my own meadow: I'm safe here._

She rest in that lovely realization for a moment, before an even better one came to her: _There will be_ _ **other**_ _safe places. Not just home at Green Gables, but in all of Avonlea. And the island. And someday the world. I'll find them all._

She breathed in the fresh smells of the countryside- she could smell the heather, the hollyhock, and a hint of…what was it, lavender? She heard a cow moo in the farmyard, and the tinkling of cowbells in the distance. She knew that Matthew would be in, soon, finished with his work for the day, and then he and Anne and Marilla would sit together at the table for the evening meal. Maybe after she and Marilla washed the dishes, Matthew would play a game of checkers with her, or they'd read the papers. And eventually Marilla would send her off to her room up in the gable and she'd wash up, snuggle down into her soft bed, and dream of springtime at Green Gables.

Tomorrow she would meet Gilbert at the edge of the meadow and he'd smile, looking like a sunrise at the first sight of her, and they'd walk to school together. She'd sit with Diana at lunch, and Ruby, Tillie, Jane, and even Josie would be happy she was there. She'd pick up where she left off in school, and Gilbert would be there to study with afterward.

 _I thought everything had changed_ , she considered, and with sudden realization: _Nothing around me has changed…I'm the one who is changed_.

And it was true- She would never be able to go back; life didn't work that way. Billy had taken something from her, and that day in the woods had changed her in ways she couldn't explain.

But changed didn't have to mean broken. There would be a _new_ normal, she thought. She would be able to keep going, to keep living, to keep dreaming.

And while she knew that what had happened to her would _always_ be with her, she also felt newly confident in one thing:

This pain she felt now- so harsh and suffocating, so breathtakingly unbearable- would slowly and surely begin to take quiet steps away from her side….until someday, in the future, it will have resignedly dulled into the gentle ache of a long ago sorrow.

Perhaps next year. Perhaps not for many years. She didn't know. But she knew that because of the love that surrounded her and the understanding of a friend- the closest friend she would ever have- the time would come _._

She was getting stronger, she felt… Such a short time ago, the realization that she would have to carry the memory of the rape with her for the rest of her life had made her feel as if she did not have the strength to go on living.

But _now_ -

Now, the fact that she would have to carry this with her for the rest of her life was a knowledge that no longer burdened her, because she knew that she would be strong enough to carry it. She tilted her head back, letting the sun cover her face with its loving warmth, and thought to herself, _this must be what healing feels like._


	239. EPILOGUE

I'm sorry- I forgot that someone told me, _"I can't read that long of a story unless they kiss at the end, PLEASE make them kiss at the end!"_ LOL!

You know who you are! So, here you go, dear reader.

* * *

 **THE EPILOGUE**

Marriage never left Anne's mind, or Gilbert's.

Matthew and Marilla knew this, and accepted it, though Marilla still insisted they not rush things or act as though they were already committed to each other.

Before Gilbert's father passed away the following winter, he reminded Gilbert that he did not have to ask for his blessing; he'd had it long ago- once again calling Anne a rare gem. Gilbert had to wipe the tears from his eyes as John Blythe used his last, labored words to tell his son that he would go to sleep imagining his empty house filled with the laughter of children.

Marriage would not happen for many years, but when it finally did, there would be times, Anne and Gilbert already knew, when he would frighten her without ever meaning to. There would be moments when his tender touch would hideously morph into Billy's in the dark recesses of Anne's mind, and she would have to stop him. But she was confident in knowing that she wouldn't _have_ to stop him, because he would stop himself.

And he would wait with her, as long as it took, until she came out of that dreadful moment and found safety in his arms again.

There was memory in touch, and both were patient, understanding that it would take time for Anne to collect more of Gilbert than she had of Billy.

* * *

 _But back to the meadow, where the Queen Anne's Lace grew around them..._

The day that Anne lay down in the meadow and found her safe place again, she did not yet know that that place would be the same place she first kissed the man who would become her husband.

The earth would continue its journey around the sun as it faithfully had for eons.

Spring would melt away into the summertime, and summer would float away on a brisk fall breeze. Anne would struggle through that fall, but the people who knew her struggle would be an endless source of strength to her, until at last fall gave way to winter.

But in the winter it was Anne's turn to be Gilbert's strength. And when winter stepped aside to let springtime in again, they'd be standing in this very spot, together in the meadow among the Queen Anne's Lace, their hearts belonging to each others just as much as before, but strengthened now by another year together.

Anne's breath caught in her throat as Gilbert reached out to her, his hand at her cheek, gentle as a whispering wind. He'd touched her this way so many times, always with a tenderness that made Anne's heart ache with a yearning for a life she'd never expected she could have.

But today she could tell Gilbert wanted something from her- and was surprised to find that this did not frighten her. The longing in his eyes was about her, not about himself. She trusted him completely.

But he pulled away from her as he always did, glancing down with a hint of rose in his cheeks.

She let her breath out. She did not even realize she'd been holding it.

"What is it?" he breathed.

She blinked twice, coming out of it. "Nothing," she whispered. "I…I thought you were going to kiss me."

Gilbert shook his head right away, his hand ruffling his hair. "No," he said. "No, I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?" Anne asked suddenly.

Gilbert finally looked up at her. "Because you don't want that."

"What if I did?" replied Anne, surprising both of them with her boldness.

"Anne," Gilbert began, looking as if he didn't know how to respond. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You haven't. You never would."

"I don't want to scare you, either. I don't want you to feel like you're not safe with me."

Anne smiled at him, new light shining in her eyes. "I've felt safe with you since the first day I met you, Gilbert Blythe. You were the _only_ one, for _such_ a long time! And now I've started to feel safe so much of the time."

He smiled at her, relief showing in his face, but then said, "I suppose I thought you might be afraid of men."

She was honest: "I am, sometimes."

He looked down, but his eyes met hers again when Anne touched his chest lightly. She said in a whisper, "But I've also been close to one without ever being hurt."

And she slipped her slender hand into his.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes. "So…I _can_ \- you _want_ me to-"

" _Yes_ ," she said, laughing.

And like a knight, he leaned close and left a chaste kiss on her flushed cheek.

But Anne was disappointed. "Oh. I thought you were _really_ going to kiss me."

So concerned was he about not pressuring her, he said quietly, "Are you _sure_ , Anne? You don't _have_ to…"

"I _know_ ," she told him, her smile lighting her up, "And that's why I _want_ to."

Gilbert found his other hand traveling back to the place he'd last left it- at her pale, tender cheek- as he'd touched her so many times.

But this time was different, because now he was free to draw her closer.

Anne found herself tilting her face toward him.

They met in the middle, as they always would.


End file.
